Hap Says Hello
by scousemuz1k
Summary: Follows on from Sideways and Forwards; Jethro's travels and how those back home are faring.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Different sailors, as well as different websites, will give you different definitions of what to call a boat, and how she's rigged. Quite happy to discuss how I see 'Stephanie' with people who know more than I do, but I'm using the terms I was taught in my youth when I was just a pair of hands crewing for people who knew what they were talking about, and all I had to say was 'aye aye, skip!'**

**I tried to research how long it would take to sail from Occoquan to Norfolk, but although I could figure the speed, I couldn't work out the sailing distance. Sorry!**

Hap Says Hello

by scousemuz1k

Only Abe was there to see him off; he was the only one he'd told the where and when, and hadn't been sure he'd come anyway. But here they stood, on the aft deck of the _Stephanie_, after he'd given the old doctor a tour of the boat, clinking glasses (brought by Abe) of champagne (also brought by Abe.) Champagne, for freaks sake...

"Come on, Gibbs, you have to have a ceremony. You have to let me say 'bon voyage', my friend."

_That wasn't what DiNozzo had said the other night... 'Fair winds and following seas'... stoppit._

"What sort of thing d'you put in the log?" Abe asked suddenly. Gibbs had shown him the new book in the wheelhouse, its only entry so far the date and place where the _Stephanie_ had taken to the water for the first time.

"Oh, latitude, longitude, date and duration of trip, sighting of other vessels, anything unusual... it's just a record."

"Hmm. You should keep a journal." He reached for the canvas bag he'd brought the champagne in, and pulled out a deep red leather-bound book, about the size of a desk diary. He handed it to Gibbs, who looked at it as if it would open up of its own accord and snap at his hand.

"A journal? Me? No way, Doc! Have enough trouble talking, let alone writing."

"Take it anyway. It's actually_ easier_ to write than talk. You might change your mind." Gibbs didn't want to be an oaf, so he took it. Abe wasn't done. "Had a feeling you'd say that, so..." He pulled something else out of the bag. It was a ziplock containing pens, some of them clearly filched from the clinic and the golf club, and about a dozen postcards of the Potomac, Rappahannock, DC, and Chesapeake Bay. "Your starter kit, Gibbs," he said cheerfully, but with an underlying hint of steel that the Marine didn't miss. "Even you can manage postcards. _Do_ it."

Gibbs understood. He wanted to get away from everything and everybody. But if he let _them_ get away from _him_, before he understood why he shouldn't... damn it, Abe knew him better than he did himself.

He felt strange... the last time he'd felt like this was the last time he deployed; he'd been leaving behind everything he cared about in the world then. What was he leaving now? Half of him wanted to be out there on the open water; beginning whatever this was that he was... beginning; the other half felt an odd reluctance, and it wasn't Abe he was thinking about.

_The Mustang had swept neatly, backwards, up to the kerb, and DiNozzo had got out carefully, using only his right arm to push himself upright._

"_Gibbs..."_

"_DiNozzo... was workin' in the basement – didn't hear ya. Er... door wasn't locked to keep you out."_

_The younger man had nodded a grave acceptance of the truth of that, and not forced him into some half-lie by asking why the door __**was**__ locked; Gibbs wondered if he simply didn't care, or wasn't nosy, (although he had a feeling that one wasn't right,) didn't want to embarrass him, or did he already know the reason? Not knowing the answers put the usual frown on his face, and he saw DiNozzo hesitate, his face clouded. His body language was suggesting rapid retreat. Gibbs pulled his horns in, the Shannon angel loud in his left ear – hadn't he been wanting to talk to the guy not five minutes ago?_

_He'd invited him in, gruffly, at a loss; DiNozzo had followed him into the house, still hesitating._

"_Ya want coffee?"_

"_Sure... can I dilute it with some hot water? Nobody in the agency can take it as strong as you."_

_Gibbs, never a gracious host, had shrugged. The agency was the last thing on his mind now. When the coffee was done, they'd sat at the kitchen table. _

"_So..." he'd met the younger man's eyes, inviting DiNozzo to realize that if he wanted to talk he was going to have to do the work. Unfair. Again. Never mind... _

"_Kay... couple of things. I'll look after McGee. And Abby, even if she never speaks to me again. And Ducky. Ziva... well, Ziva's moving on," maybe some regret there, Gibbs thought, " but I'll look after her where I can. And I meant what I said – I always had your six, and I always will. You'll believe it one day."_

_Now it was Gibbs' turn for a solemn nod. If he couldn't appreciate the why, he could at least acknowledge the sincerity._

"_And the other thing?"_

_The guy was painfully tense. "You... you were my boss for five years. You'll be gone soon, and neither of us has a clue when we'll meet again. Got to give things a chance... Just couldn't let you go off without saying something... anything... I don't know. I should go."_

"_Nah. Wait up..." He'd wished he could talk to him and here he was... hadn't given a thought to what about, or how... "Did Ducky tell you he sent me to talk to a crim-psych?"_

_For the first time, the ghost of a smile. "No kidding? He just said a friend."_

"_Hmph. Him and this __**friend **__had been talking... guy says you mean somethin' to me. Ya wanna explain what he means?"_

"_I'd sooner let you remember in your own time, Gibbs..." An incredulous, horrified pause. "Wait, wait, wait – you're not asking – am I __**into**__ you? I don't swing that way, Gibbs, come on, you must know, neither do you – is __**that**__ what's bugging you?"_

"_No!" __**Had**__ he been thinking that? Was that what had triggered this boiling resentment? Was that what Abe had been getting at? Nah... "No... no. Five years I can't remember, that's bugging me..."_

"You getting a head-ache? You want me to find you some Advil?" DiNozzo paused, and Gibbs shook his head. "There _**are**__ other relationships – not sure I want to try to define ours – you may want to __**re-**__define it when you remember..." The kid paused again; dammit, why did he look so lost? What was he saying? "Might not ever have been what you wanted, and I just dumped it on you. I respected you... always wanted your approval... Gibbs, this was such a bad idea. I'm making things worse. I should just go."_

_He'd stood up, all gangly and long legged. Gibbs had found himself glancing at the basement door._

"_Want a drink before you go? One for the road?" He moved towards the door, but DiNozzo shook his head._

"_That's your sanctum. Don't invite me down there until you know exactly who it is you're inviting, and then if you still want to share a drink with me, I'll come." He paused. "All you need to remember right now is I'm here for you. If you need me. Nothing will change that. Fair winds and following seas, Gibbs."_

_He'd stepped forwards as if he intended to maybe shake the older man's hand, or hug him, and Gibbs couldn't keep himself from stiffening in alarm. DiNozzo had stopped, nodded sharply, and left without a fuss, while Gibbs tried to figure out how to kick his own ass. The kid's tryin' – way to go, Jethro. For the first time since he'd woken from the coma, he felt guilty for hurting the guy. And hell, without the hug or handshake he hadn't wanted anyway, he'd felt abandoned._

He chugged the last of the champagne, as Abe waited patiently, observing that an important train of thought was happening, and not wanting to interrupt. Realising it, Gibbs brought his musings sharply to an end, and stored them away to chew on later.

"OK," he said finally. "Postcards it is. Thanks, Doc."

Abe looked at him. "Go on, then," he said. "Let me see how this bird flies." He shook hands with the Marine, and stepped carefully up from the deck to the jetty. "Gotta get this hip fixed," he grunted. "God speed." Stooping carefully, he unhitched the mooring rope and dropped it down to Gibbs, then stepped back with an air of finality.

With the single headsail already raised, the little sloop was in motion at once, heading down past the end of the short wooden pier. There was a good reason many people chose Occoquan, or even further down-river to begin their journeys; upstream the winds were crossways and erratic, and even here Gibbs had to tack before he found enough good air to raise the mainsail, and run the whole, elegant Bermuda rig. Abe watched for a while; he'd done all he could. He limped back to his Audi and drove slowly away.

Less than half a mile distant, on higher ground, a Mustang was parked among heady-smelling pine trees. Its driver sat on a wing, binoculars in his hand. He'd known when Gibbs had left his house that morning; his computer set to alert him the moment the tracker on the Marine's truck started to move. He knew where Gibbs was going; it had taken McGee about three minutes to find where the _Stephanie _was berthed, and maybe another ten to get her GPS code. Tim had offered to come with him, but hadn't been offended when his old friend, nemesis, and new boss had said he needed to go alone.

"Unless you _want_ to come? For yourself, I mean."

"No... I was offering for you. Get gone." He'd disconnected.

Tony watched the dark brown boat with its new sails gleaming white, moving out into the bay in the hazy, early morning light, to head south down the river. Through the powerful glasses, he could see Gibbs raising the sail, then he disappeared into the wheelhouse. Tony waited, but he didn't come out again. _Stephanie_ headed down towards Quantico, until only her sails made a bright dot of silver, against the chiaroscuro of cloud shadow, mist and sunlight on the water.

'There should be a sound-track,' he thought. Mendelssohn, Fingal's Cave... Khachaturian, the Spartacus Adagio... they'd used it in that imported Brit thing about sailing ships that he'd loved watching as a boy. Vangelis, The Conquest of Paradise... yes, that was the one for this scene, broad and emotional... he _wasn't_ going to hum it... hell, if he'd wanted to he couldn't; the lump in his throat was ridiculously huge. What was he _doing_ here?

He carded his fingers through his hair. Trust Gibbs, damn him... he'd recognised there was love in what Tony felt for him; didn't want it... was that why he put the wrong slant on it? He couldn't have telegraphed 'Keep away' more clearly if he'd used semaphore. He sighed; his crappy childhood wasn't Gibbs' fault; nor was his foolish tendency to push the surrogate father thing onto him. Although... it had worked well enough, in its very downbeat way, hadn't it? For a while. Nothing lasts. The odds were that since Gibbs had ended up hating the sight of him, if he ever remembered how things had been, he wouldn't want to go back.

The tiny patch of silver winked out as the sun disappeared behind a cloud, and when it emerged again, it was impossible to spot the boat any more in the haze.

He shrugged his shoulders hard, to try and dislodge some of the bitter pain weighing them down. A wry smile spread over his face; Gibbs might want to be alone, but he must surely know Tim could read a GPS signal. And if he disabled it, he still didn't know about the tiny chip Tim had given Ducky, Ducky had given Abe, and Abe had carefully hidden under the binding of that journal. Tony laughed sadly. Nothing was going to stop him being a good surrogate son. Nothing. He got back into his car and put it into reverse. Back to DC – he had a new team to build and take care of.

Gibbs saw a flash as he happened to glance towards the land, and he frowned in irritation. Rubberneckers – they should get out and sail something themselves instead of watching the people who did. Huh... maybe they were bird-watching, or looking for dolphins; whatever, they weren't going to watch him. He went into the wheelhouse and stayed there.

After a few minutes he opened the drawer where he kept the log, glad that Abe wasn't there to see how he'd put both the journal and the cache of postcards underneath it, out of sight, out of mind. And yet... When he'd entered the time he'd set sail into the log, he hesitated, inexplicably, before lifting the red book out instead of covering it again with the more mundane brown one. Slowly, he set it down on the small chart table, opened it, and stood staring at the crisp whiteness of the page, his mind unwillingly dragging him back to his conversation with DiNozzo. He took a pen from the wallet, and wrote the date, then: _you may want to redefine it when you remember – might not ever have been what you wanted and I just dumped it on you._

He looked at what he'd written for a long time; out here on the water the accompanying headache didn't seem to appear, but not a glimmer of any sort of enlightenment did either. Well, the _Stephanie_ was heading down-river at a good rate of knots; he'd sit here and watch the world go by and think nothing. In a while he'd set the self-steering gear for a short time, (it ate electricity and he hadn't had it put in for his benefit anyway, it was what most buyers demanded these days. Not that it wasn't useful...) and fix something to eat. By evening he'd reach Norfolk, where he'd already booked an overnight berth at the Naval Sailing Center. From there it was a short walk to the Joint Forces Staff College where Abby was teaching her course. He'd sleep, probably like a log, with lungs full of sea air, and in the morning he'd walk over and surprise her.

He'd take her to lunch, and ask her what DiNozzo had meant; although he knew she'd probably tell him, just as everyone else had done, that he must remember things for himself. The difference was that Abby couldn't lie successfully to save her life, especially when it was him she was lying to. When she'd visited him at home at the weekend, though, she'd been too busy reassuring him that it was fine for him to go, and he'd been too busy talking her down from the high of unexpectedly loving what she was doing, to want to go there.

"_Well yes, I wondered at first, I thought I'd be getting a lot of bored..__**.anythings**__, who were there because they had to be, not because they wanted to be, but it turned out they'd __**all **__requested the course because they thought it'd help them to do their jobs better, and maybe help to get justice for someone!"_

_She counted on her fingers. "Three doctors, two men, one lady. Six nurses. Three marine privates and a corporal. One detective from VA State Police. And... a Gunny! I've already spoken to the Principal about doing an advanced course if they can all get to it... maybe in the Spring... although I really want a bigger class-room; it's kind of like a lab in a janitor's store, I couldn't even keep Hap in there, let alone a class of keen students -"_

"_Keep Hap?"_

Had he imagined the look of panic that flashed across her face? He didn't imagine, especially where Abby was concerned; nobody wore their feelings as openly as she did.

"_Keep Hap? No, that's not what I said. Be happy. Nobody could be happy working in such a small space. I have fifteen students, Gibbs... how can we be happy in a broom cupboard?"_

Well, if she didn't want to say, he wasn't going to ask, but he'd been there when she'd phoned McGee, and he'd heard the strange noises... Looked like Abby was still being a law unto herself; he supposed it was unreasonable to ask her to stop altogether. Abby, stop being Abby...

Another thing he'd been determined not to ask was if she'd spoken to DiNozzo; the guy had wondered if she'd ever forgive him, and although much as he didn't want to admit it, since the one thing he'd remembered without any doubt was the warmth of his relationship with her, he rather felt it should be the other way round. But it wasn't just none of his business, it was something he couldn't handle. He'd encouraged her... was it guilt, or more? Or what?

He shook himself back to the present and stared at the writing again, and hoped Abby would take pity on him and tell him what she knew without his having to try to wheedle it out of her.

NCISNCISNCIS

Gibbs liked the Naval Marina; the craft there belonged to serious sailors, not weekenders. _Stephanie_ was right at home there. In the morning he awoke quite late, with a healthy hunger, and after bringing the log up to date, a strong coffee or three and a good breakfast, he took a walk round admiring other boats. (He modestly accepted a few compliments when he admitted he'd built _Stephanie_ himself.) He killed a bit more time with a visit to the Marina store, then set off for the Staff College.

The first person he met after he'd found his way to the science block directed him to Abby's domain, where her class were milling around in ordered chaos gathering things up at the end of the morning session.

"Make sure you've not left anything fermenting, guys, Angela, you need to re-seal that pot... Gunny, it won't be done any faster just cuz you glare at it... see you back here at 13.30 hours... _Giiibbbs!_"

He'd taken great pleasure in materialising at her elbow. "Can I buy a lady lunch?"

"Oh, you bet! Gibbs, it's so good to see you -"

"Saw you Sunday, Abs -"

"And it's now _Tuesday_! Have you sailed here? Gibbs, that's so cool! Does she handle well? Does it feel good being out there on the open sea?"

"Got another ten miles or so before I can say that, Abs. But yeah, it feels good. Lunch -"

Her face sobered suddenly. " Lunch... Gibbs, we need to go back to my quarters – " she pulled a face as she said the word – "We can eat there, but there's something I have to do..."

"Hap."

"How did you – oh, you're Gibbs, you know everything." She dropped her voice to what was, for her, a whisper. "You mustn't tell anyone... I'll try to find him a home, really I will, but if they find out before I do, they'll make me get rid of him, and maybe he'll have to be put down, and really, he didn't deserve to be abandoned in the first place – he's just a pup... I saw to it that he got all his jabs,and he's healthy and well behaved –"

They entered the residential block, and she unlocked her door and pushed it open. The first thing Gibbs saw was the pile of sofa cushions and bedding in the tiny lobby, and the fact that every other door was shut. "He gets so bored shut in one room, so I always come home at lunch time..." She opened the door to the bed/sitting room, where the third thing Gibbs noticed was the heavy canvas wrapping on the bed, and the single chair and small two seater sofa minus their cushions. That was after the second thing he noticed, which was being sexually assaulted by a nose trying to get at his scrotum from the rear.

"Hap, stop it! Bad dog!" Gibbs turned to meet the perpetrator, who backed off looking guilty, and went to Abby for a reassuring fuss. "He's a bit socially inept," she said apologetically.

"McGee said 'puppy'," Gibbs mused. "No way." Hap was chocolate brown-ish, big-ish, adolescent-ish, Labrador-ish, something else-ish, probably Clydesdale. He was the most ish dog Gibbs had ever seen, and as Abby bustled around putting cushions back so they could sit, the two got to know each other.

Hap didn't have a problem – new friend, instant love, that's how you did things in his world. Gibbs had minor reservations; Hap was large and energetic, wanted to dole out sloppy kisses, and wasn't embarrassed about where he stuck his nose. He seemed to mean well...

Abby made chicken salad sandwiches, and Hap went to sit on his (shredded) old sleeping bag, looking hopeful.

"He won't come and grab the food out of my hand any more," Abby said proudly, "but he still needs more skilled training than I can give him." Alarm bells clanged, hell, klaxons went off in Gibbs' head, but he chomped on his sandwich and said nothing.

"I found him out in the rain the second night I was here," Abby went on after a while. "He was trying to hide under the bushes by the lab entrance. I er... brought him home. He'd clearly had no training of any sort, but we're getting along now." Since he'd been polite enough not to ask, she gave him her last sandwich.

"He chews things up."

"He's getting better... he's bored... I got him checked over, the veterinarian thinks he's not quite a year old, no microchip, nothing."

Hap lay down on his side, yawned and belched.

"Thought you said he was well behaved," Gibbs remarked.

"He _is_, he just has problems with manners." As she spoke there came the sound of abdominal gurgling, and then a quiet hiss. Hap grinned. Gibbs gagged as an appalling smell drifted across the room.

"Abs..."

"Er... yes... he has other social problems..." She brightened. "He doesn't do it very often!"

Gibbs looked at the grinning mutt, feeling fate's grip closing on him inexorably. "So, Hap. Short for Happy?"

Abby looked embarrassed. "Er... Mishap... or Hapless. I'm not sure which."

Three days later, Abe got a postcard.

_Norfolk,VA. Hi Doc, Got myself a travelling companion. Canine. Got conned by Abby. Hap says hello. Gibbs_

**AN: I'm hoping to tell much of the story in postcards; and not that I'm too lazy to write them myself or anything, I'd love any fellow writers (or readers, you KNOW who I'm talking to, don't you...) who'd like to to contribute. Got two brilliant ones already, would love more. With due credit given of course. I thought a group write might be fun... PM me if you'd like.**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: First of all, special thanks to Laine for knowing I'd be needing regulations for taking a dog ashore in a foreign country, and providing them before I'd even got round to thinking about it, so I could get Abby onto it... You're something else, gal!**

**Wytygr... that was a hilarious idea... the trouble is, as you weren't signed in, and put it in a review, people will have already seen it – but as you see, I'm using it right away, so thanks for that!**

**Special thanks too, to the Chief, Ytteb and Inchy – for your wonderful contributions!**

Hap Says Hello

Chapter 2

There was one pigeon-hole among the many in the science block lobby that had 'Dr. Sciuto' hastily applied in dark red dymo-tape, and Abby tried to sidle up to it when no-one was looking; she knew why she didn't care to be known by her title, although she wasn't telling, and she didn't want anyone passing to associate her with the red dymo-person. But she had to go to that little box; her excellent long sight could see something in there that made her heart leap.

Postcard by Inchwormsrule

Picture: Cape Hatteras Lighthouse

_Abs, _

_Two days outta Norfolk and Hap's chewing everything he can get his teeth into. Belaying pins, boat fenders, rigging blocks and my new deck shoes. At this rate he may eat the damn boat before we make the Florida Keys._

_Large electrical storm yesterday off the coast of North Carolina. Boat handled like a dream – can't say the same about me and the mutt. Ordered him below deck but the first crack of thunder saw him bursting from the hatch like he was shot from a canon. Launched himself right at me; had I been wearing deck shoes I might've had a chance. _

_Last thing I thought of before I hit the water was how lucky my life jacket was tethered to the jack line. Yep...you can add jack line to the list of Hap's chewing casualties. Good to know safety beacon works well…_

_Hap and US Coast Guard say hello._

For a moment Abby was aghast. This was what Gibbs got up to as soon as her back was turned... she wouldn't have a moment's peace until he came home again. She'd tell him he – she laughed. It wasn't that she couldn't contact him, there were ways, there was always that postal box in St Simons where she'd already sent all the landing permits of every sort and place that she thought he might need if he were heading for the Windies as she suspected... No, the whole idea was to give him some space, even if he half-drowned himself. This was going to be _so_ difficult...

NCISNCISNCIS

Postcard and preamble by USAFChief

Picture: Rachel Carson National Estuarine Sanctuary, Beaufort NC

(Name of boat from a story by Elf Lord's Mistress; hope she doesn't mind – we've not been able to contact her.)

Jimmy Palmer smiled indulgently as his mentor came into Autopsy. Ducky was smiling and humming, "Ta dum, ta dum, ta deedlae dum."

The ME hung his hat on the rack and began to remove his overcoat.

"Are you having an especially good morning, Dr. Mallard?"

"I had an auspicious evening, Mr. Palmer. The good weather and uneventful drive into work have done nothing to interfere with my joyous mood. It reminds me of times in my youth when…oh, never mind those times. I got a postcard from Jethro and it brought good news."

"Ah, I'm glad to hear he is alive and well."

Ducky chuckled."He's barely been gone a week, Mr. Palmer! He said for me to tell you hello."

"Me? He said to tell ME hello?"

"Well, it was a little more generic, Mr. Palmer. He said to tell everyone hello and you are part of the group, so hello to you from Jethro."

"Oh! Thank God! If he had addressed just me and didn't include Abby, she would rip me apart and hide all the evidence."

"I think you're right, Mr. Palmer. I'll be more careful when I mention to the others that I've gotten a post card from Jethro, but I'm sure that Abigail must have already received one or two in Norfolk."

Ducky smiled to himself as he remembered the message he had received.

"_Hi ya, Duck. Remembered some stuff about you today. That time we went to from Italy to France to look at a Morgan you heard about. Just jumped into my head full bloom like a morning glory opening to the sun. I was right there again watching you shove that flic off the cliff into that lake and us high-tailing it out of there before his buddies could throw us in the clink. Had to call Jenny for extraction, then took us all night to hitch rides over to the coast. Didn't really expect Jenny to show up in that sailboat, but there she came – sailing into the marina with her red hair flying and laughing like crazy. Told us later she stole the boat from a guy up the coast a ways. Took us two days to cross the Channel, but we had a great time doing it. The best part was the way we laughed when we found out the name of the boat – Breaking Wind. Ha Ha. Gotta go clean the poop deck again – damn dog. Whole damn boat is a poop deck it seems like. Have to go into every port along the coast just to get rid of the poop and buy kibble – Hap hates fish. Say hello to everyone."_

Ducky was overjoyed that Jethro was beginning to regain the good parts of his memories. Perhaps one day he'd be able to make a voyage with his friend for old times sake, sailing on warm Summer seas...

NCISNCISNCIS

"You can come out of there," Gibbs said sternly, and was rather surprised that Hap came to him at once. He looked guilty. "So you should." Gibbs looked at him severely. Pup had learned that he should pee in the scuppers _and nowhere else_, and deposit his poop on newspaper laid over a piece of tarp in the corner of the aft deck, and changing his diet to eukanuba and plenty of water was improving the flatulence problem. It wasn't so bad out on open water, where the wind took care of the stench; it was still sometimes risky to be downwind of him, but hey, they were getting somewhere. But this was something new. Gibbs pointed to the disgusting mess of scales, guts and raw fish in the middle of the deck.

"Ya don't have to like fish. Not askin' ya to eat it. But that was _my_ dinner! You sat there while I caught it." He pointed an accusing finger at the end of Hap's nose, and the dog's amber eyes almost crossed trying to focus on it. "You watched me. I turn my back and you're shredding it. _Bad dog._" He didn't raise his voice; he'd found that the barely trained mystery mutt understood Gunnery-Sergeant very well without his having to shout it. Hap shuffled back a bit and lowered his head; the boss dog had made his point. "Right. Now you sit there while I see if I can't catch somethin' else. Was really lookin' forward to some nice pan-fried bass."

Gibbs cleared the mess up, then picked up his rod again; Hap came and laid his brown head on his knee, and got a forgiving pat. The Marine looked out at the low islands as he payed out his line; they'd been at anchor here for two days, watching seabirds and the feral horses that sometimes ran along the shore, and he'd have to make himself move on soon. He'd taken out the journal and looked at those words he'd written two or three times while they'd been here, but hadn't added anything. Rachel Carson had been one of Shannon's heroes, and sitting so close to the islets of the Eastuarine Sanctuary made him feel very close to his wife. In the end he'd started refusing to think about DiNozzo, lingering on Shannon and Kelly instead. Part of him didn't want to leave at all, but suddenly, Shannon-on-his-shoulder chuckled warmly, and whispered, _"Get on with it. Do you really think moving on is leaving us behind?"_

"Well, no, Shan," he agreed. "I'd never do that." He drew his line in again, threw the massacred fish overboard, upped anchor, and started the engine to motor gently out of the shallows.

NCISNCISNCIS

Postcard idea contributed by Wytygr

Picture: Arthur Ravenell Jr Bridge, Charleston

_Hi Abs, Never been to Charleston before – nice place. Wasn't planning to. Needed __**more**__ new deck shoes. Hap p****d in the latest pair. Seems he has to mark everything new as his. Would drop him off at a shelter but you'd skin me alive._

_Hap says hello – or he would if he wasn't hiding under the chart table._

_G. x_

Abby bridled indignantly, then shook her head and smiled thoughtfully, sitting holding the two brightly coloured cards that had arrived together. Gibbs would be good for the unruly mutt, and Hap would be good for him. There was an analogy there somewhere... her heart ached suddenly for Tony. She'd been so cruel... She'd apologised; he'd accepted it genuinely and without hesitation or recrimination, but something about him had been remote and sad. She read the other card.

Postcard by ytteb

Picture: Fort Sumter National Monument

_Hey Abs, Rule 52 – don't bury Gibbs glasses. Hap broke rule 52. Hap's not happy – don't worry, didn't headslap him. Have to write big cuz I can't see properly, run out of roo_

She smiled again, pinned the cards up on the tiny corkboard in the corner of her tiny lab beside the first one, and wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. Gibbs was beyond her reach for now. She sent some positive vibes out into the ether, then took the calendar down from the wall beside the board. Turning to the day the course finished, two pages further on, she began to write numbers in the corner of each day's box, counting backwards to the present. Sixty-one days... then she could be there for Tony at least, and prove she had his six now.

NCISNCISNCIS

He'd had to get new glasses in Charleston as well as deck shoes... having buried the old ones, glasses, that was, on the shore near Fort Sumter, Hap had been totally inept at finding them again... They'd found a quiet cove with a decent jetty, and since there was no hurry for anything much, Gibbs had agreed to fetch the new specs the following morning, rather than insist on a rush job.

Hap had woken him in the middle of the night, prowling uneasily, and he'd followed him topside to see what was bothering him.

A fairly large motor yacht was moored at a concrete quay on the other side of the cove. It was too dark and too far distant to see what was happening, and Gibbs' hearing wasn't as good as Hap's, but the dog's ears were pricked and all his attention was on the shape in the darkness. Gibbs rubbed his ears and called him below again. "Come on, fella, not our boat. Let's get some sleep."

Postcard

Picture: Kiawah Island Golf Course

_Wanna see how the other half lives, Tobias?_

_Know anything about a yacht called Mood Indigo? 90' ish, rich man's toy? My hairball assistant's gut – not wind – seems to think it needs investigating. Very low in the water last night, some sort of activity overnight, riding much higher this morning. Quiet inlet south of Charleston. 32.7604N,80.0977W. Left early. We took a walk up there, spotty dark staining on quay._

_Hap says hello, it was blood, and get on it._

Postcard

Picture: Fort Frederica State Historical Site

_McGee, Weather good, heading on south. Might have spotted a mystery, or not - ya might hear from Fornell. Don't know if there's any way to involve NCIS – keep an eye on DiNozzo, don't want him thinking I'd talk to Fornell not him. Hap says hi. Gibbs_

Gibbs had stared at that one for a while before dropping it in the mail box. Would they think he was going soft, considering DiNozzo's feelings? He'd even picked a neutral picture for his former SFA; he had some sort of idea that a historic military picture wouldn't go down so well. Not a clue why. He sighed irritably, and Hap, sitting politely beside him, nudged him sympathetically.

Postcard

Picture: Altamaha Sound

_DiNozzo – Saw something last night, got my gut going. Or I could've been bored and imagining things. Heads-up that ya might get a visit from Fornell. Or it might be none of NCIS's damn business...If you're interested, see what you find on motor yacht Mood Indigo. G_

He'd posted the one to Fornell without hesitation. The one to McGee he'd lingered over; he stood reading over the one to DiNozzo wondering if it felt right, and if not, what should he have said? Why did it matter? Hap whined anxiously at him, and he growled and dropped it through the slot.

"OK, boy, let's take a walk round town, then get going again." Hell, it'd be three days or so before the messages got to their destinations; by that time _Mood Indigo _would be long gone. Already was. So why his gut kept nagging him he had no idea. He kept his radio on channel 16; the general information and contact waveband, and while he'd been in the habit of keeping the door shut while he was on deck to shut out its squawking, now he actively kept half an ear on coastal comings and goings.

"Hell, Hap," he said over breakfast next morning, "I can barely remember the job; just don't seem to be able to let go." Hap answered with his usual nudge; whatever boss dog said was fine by him. This boss dog he understood; he didn't change the rules, or hurt him for no reason, or keep him without food; he knew where he stood, and it was in a safe place. He couldn't remember when life had been good before he met the one with the nice voice, and then this one, but he stretched out beside him and yawned contentedly.

NCISNCISNCIS

"Good morning, Tony, er... what are you doing?"

"Waiting for the phone to ring and give us a case, of course."

"Yeah." Alex set her purse down beside her chair, still looking in astonishment at the image on her boss's screen. "Planning a millionaire holiday?"

He was always in ahead of her; if their paperwork was up to date he didn't insist on them all being there at the same ungodly hour as the boss-who-never-slept used to. It was bad enough that she sometimes didn't get home early enough to put her daughter to bed, no way would he stop them from having breakfast together.

She walked over to look more closely at the picture, and he grinned. "I wish." The smile disappeared, and he handed her a postcard, with a picture of a fast-flowing sea between low alluvial banks and islands.

"From Gibbs!" she exclaimed, and read it quickly. It explained the picture of the very expensive boat on Tony's monitor.

The Boss pointed to Tim's desk. "McGee got one as well... and if he doesn't get here soon, I'm going to go over there and read it."

"I'm here, I'm here. Don't you want your breakfast? And read what? Oh..." To Tim's credit, he gave Tony his breakfast sack before picking up the postcard; his expression became a thoughtful frown as he read. The SSA and the probie both waited impatiently, and Tim looked at them awkwardly. He didn't know if he should tell Tony what it said; did Gibbs want him to know he was looking out for him? He sighed a little. Gibbs was hundreds of miles away, and Tony was here and now, and his responsibility. "Show you mine if you show me yours?"

They solemnly swapped, and Alex read Tim's over Tony's shoulder. They were all silent for a while, thinking of Gibbs and them, and them and Gibbs, and nobody could actually find the words for all the things going through their minds.

"He's looking out for you," Tim said finally. "So... d'you think Fornell will come?"

"If he doesn't, I'm going to see him," Tony said, his voice suddenly hard. The other two looked at him and waited. "I'm going to tell him to tell Gibbs to stay away from the _Mood Indigo _and everything about her. Tim," he added urgently, " find out exactly where both of them are right now." He transferred the information from his station to the plasma screen, as McGee set up his search, and went on flatly, "_Mood Indigo_, built last year, on the commission of Martin Uriel, a lawyer, who's the registered owner of the boat. Nothing remarkable about him; except that he works for Igor Kanchelskis. Son of Ukrainian immigrant parents, convictions twenty years ago for racketeering, then gun running, since then nothing, he just gets richer. Flagged by every agency, except us, who he's never tangled with, nothing proven –"

"Surrounds himself with bodyguards, henchmen, yes-men..." Tobias Fornell said, as he emerged from the elevator. "We'd all love a shot at him."

"Tell me you didn't put Gibbs onto him," Tony said softly.

"Hell no, DiNutso. Gibbs sent me a _postcard_..." He showed them what Gibbs had written, and Tim waited until they were done to tell them that while Gibbs was hugging the coast a little south of Brunswick, the motor yacht was a hundred miles out into open ocean.

"Good," Tony said harshly. "Because there's no way that one man and his dog, even if the one man is Leroy Jethro Gibbs, can take on the likes of Kanchelskis." He looked hard at Fornell. "Toby, if there's any more on this, you have to keep us in the loop. I need to know what's going on."

"Why d'you think I'm here? I could have called."

Tony subsided. "Yeah, sorry. Gibbs actually_ said _you'd come."

"Yeah, well, you need to know something else."

"Go on..." it was Tony who spoke, but three pairs of eyes turned on him uneasily.

"We're tracking the yacht... if we can figure out where she'll next make land when she returns to the coast, we want Gibbs to be there and see what she does."

Tony didn't yell. He wasn't Gibbs. "Quiet inlet, he said. Quiet means not many boats around. Means they'll have noticed him. They might not have noticed his interest in _them_ one time, but if he's in the same place as them again, they might. They _will_. Send guys with binoculars. Send the Coastguard. You can't do it, Fornell."

Tobias sighed. "Tony, he's already volunteered."

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: I've struggled very much with timing the voyage; if any of the distances and sailing times seem off, do say... I've tried to err on the side of Gibbs going a lot slower than he could. He didn't build the agency sedans he abuses, but he's taking care of **_**Stephanie**_** and not rushing anywhere with her.**

**HUGE thanks to Madances, Gail Cregg and Sopmire, it's a great pleasure to have you on board ladies – and Sopmire, you not only wrote a thoughtful third of my chapter for me, but gave the sort of local knowledge only a native of the region could! Thank you all so much!**

Hap Says Hello

Chapter 3

Postcardby Madances

Picture: Dolphins playing in a boat's wake, Ossabaw Sound, Georgia.  
_  
Hi Abe. Median swells. Cloudy morning. First dolphin pod playing by the bow. Pup now  
drying at stern. Hap says hello. G_

Gibbs petted the damp hound ruefully. By the time he'd retrieved the retriever(ish), lugging him over the transome by the scruff of his neck, the dolphins had moved, on but Hap wouldn't go near the bows in case they were still there. The pod hadn't meant any harm, but they were too many and too boisterous for Hap to enjoy the involuntary swim he'd taken with them. "Wuss. People pay a fortune to do what you just did." Hap looked apologetic, but he'd come out of the water shaking like a leaf.

Gibbs sighed, and started looking for the nearest landfall; the hapless pup was rattled; maybe a spell on dry land would help. And much as he hated the idea, he'd have to get a cheap cell, so Fornell didn't have to go through the coastguard every time he wanted to communicate. Using that'd mean keeping well in to the coastline... they'd never make even Florida at this rate, and he'd set his heart on Jamaica, whether_ Mood Indigo_ was going there or not... he hoped the damn yacht, currently reported in Bermuda, was never coming back, but he wouldn't have that sort of luck.

Why was he complaining? It wasn't as if his progress down the coast was anything but slow. He had thoughts to think and places to see, and all the time in the world...

He found a charter jetty at the back of Tybee island, where the owner was quite happy to let him tie up for a while; he'd found that for the most part boat people were generous by nature, belonging to a loose, easy-going and not particularly exclusive club. He bought diesel for his engine, a couple of new belaying pins, a couple more postcards, including the one he hastily scribbled to Abe – and a life-jacket with beacon for Hap.

"Accident prone?" the owner asked. "Yeah, we find a lot of boat dogs are that way."

"Well, least he's a good swimmer," Gibbs said wryly.

The man directed him to a post office further down the road, where he could also pick up a phone; it was a mile each way, and although he let Hap off his leash, Gibbs noticed he kept close to him, and resisted all temptation to hassle the local seabirds or hunt rabbits.

When they arrived back at the jetty, the owner was nowhere to be seen, but a yelp of pain and a string of expletives came from behind the building. Going to investigate, he'd found the man with a bloody knuckle, an abraded palm, and a plumbing problem he couldn't handle.

"Trying to put a decent fresh water supply to the jetty," he told Gibbs, as the Marine administered rough and ready first aid, "save customers having to come round back here. I do the electrical and carpentry – my partner does the plumbing, but he's over to Charleston to buy a new boat. Shoulda waited until he came back."

Gibbs resisted the temptation to agree with him, but doing the job right got him as many nights as he might want to stay. He'd see how Hap was; maybe he really wasn't cut out to be a water dog... but the mutt leapt back on board without hesitation, which Gibbs was pleased about. He actually liked the chocolate clown's company... Admitting defeat and calling Abby to collect him wasn't an option anyway.

After feeding them both, and finding a beach for Hap to run on, (and zipping his new specs up in the inside pocket of his jacket,) Gibbs returned to the _Stephanie_ and updated the log. As he'd done before, although not in a while, he lifted the red journal out of the drawer, and sat on the aft deck gunwale, looking yet again at the words of DiNozzo's that he'd written.

_You may want to redefine it when you remember – might not ever have been what you wanted, and I just dumped it on you._

These days he could think about the man who'd told him where to go, quit his team, and now led it, without feeling either the anger or the head-ache; what he felt was more like some sort of undefined regret, but nothing else came to him yet. Gibbs didn't believe in coincidence, but even he was shocked when his new phone chose that self-same moment to ring.

"Tobias?"

"Yeah, Gibbs... just been given your new number."

"Which ya won't give to anyone else. Ya do I'll throw it overboard."

"Goes without saying. Nothing to report – except DiNozzo's ready to kill me. Thinks I shouldn't be letting you go up against Kanchelskis. Told him you're not, just observing – he doesn't believe me. Guess he knows you."

"_Tobias, you and your director get together with mine – whatever it takes, I don't care, and get me in on whatever this operation's going to be."_

_Fornell tried to reassure the younger man whose furious green eyes held his. "DiNutso, there isn't an operation; Gibbs is just observing."_

_Topny snorted derisively. "Everyone wants a piece of Kanchelskis – Gibbs just might have given you an in; if there wasn't an operation twenty-four hours ago, there is now. Get me in." He'd turned to look at the image of the fast yacht on the big screen, and now he spun back to face Fornell, eyes blazing. "Or I take every bit of leave owing me and go down there and deal __**myself**__ in."_

"_Tony," Tim protested, "You can't go off alone–"_

"_Fine. You can come with me. D'you not get it, McGee? You think all the Alphabet that's out to get this guy will give the tiniest damn shit what happens to one, probably retired for all they know agent on the way?" He turned to Fornell again, trying to haul back. "OK. Not your fault he volunteered. He's probably still deranged enough to be convinced he's invincible. Did I really say that? Convinced/invince...The hell... No point yelling at you, except you're a handy target -"_

_Tobias said wryly, "No point in shooting the messenger, Tony."_

"_No... but message me this... exactly what back-up and protection will they arrange for Gibbs?"_

_Tobias didn't answer, because he couldn't. _

"_Ya see? Get me in."_

"Don't tell me ya did, Tobias. I don't want anyone else involved – I don't need anyone else. I'm not going to _do_ anything..."

"Yeah well, like I said, DiNozzo knows you. I agreed to keep him posted is all. It's not an NCIS operation, I can't find any sort of evidence of naval involvement, to get him in."

"You personally?"

Fornell's voice softened a little. "Well, felt I owed it to the kid to at least try." He disconnected, leaving Gibbs to stare at those words again.

"_I've always had your six and I always will..." _He heard the young man's voice in his head, and had a sudden strange flash of recollection. He stood nose to nose with DiNozzo on the staircase up to the mezzanine, and something told him he'd been ripping the younger man off about something. The green eyes looked back at him completely unabashed, and he was being asked something about Moby Dick...

He picked up a pen, and wrote underneath the day's date, "Next big town, buy a copy of Moby Dick. Read it."

NCISNCISNCIS

Ziva came into the generously proportioned office she shared with the other four members of her team. "Always generous at the Pentagon, Miss," the guard who'd shown her the place on her first day had told her with a grin. She'd been in the job ten days, and out of the office for all of it, and she looked suspiciously at the pile of mail, all official looking, on her desk. Something caught her eye, and she extracted the postcard from the middle of the stack, with a smile. It had been there a few days.

Postcard and location by Gail Cregg

Picture: White Point Park, with Civil War Canon

_Ziva, Good luck with the new job. At NCIS or not, know we'll always have your six. Try not to kill anyone without authorisation, as Hap would like to meet you in person one day. He says hello. G._

She'd heard about Hap from Jenny... only Abby could adopt a dog and then con someone else into having him... She was still smiling when her team-mate Malachi joined her.

"From a boyfriend?" he asked, seeing the smile.

"Oh no, someone much more important," was all she'd tell him.

NCISNCISNCIS

Tony stood behind one of McGee's shoulders, Alex behind the other.

"Tony, I've got it. Don't worry. So far, and don't forget I'd been watching him on and off even before we found we needed to, right from the beginning of his voyage, Gibbs hasn't sailed once it's dark. He either drops anchor, or if he can find a berth that draws ten feet, even at low tide, he puts up there. Right now he's still at Tybee Island, his second night, so we can all get some sleep. Even if he sets out again at sun-up, we'll still be able to track him, and anyway, the yacht's still in Bermuda."

"You're sure?"

Tim grinned, as wolfishly as his open face would allow. "Fornell gave me the code for their GPS, their emergency locator beacon – and I've also got Gibbs' by the way – and the tracker that an FBI frogman attached to the hull last night in Pilchard Bay, Bermuda."

Tony let his breath out slowly, feeling more reassured. He was glad he hadn't let rip at Fornell like he'd wanted to; it really wasn't his fault, the guy had done the best he could for them for the present, and when he said he'd keep them in the loop, they knew he meant it.

"'Kay... nice work, McMariner. Look, I need – "

Tim stood up and turned to face him. "I can track from home as well. I promise you, there'll never be an hour go by, unless we're out on a case, when I don't know where they are. Any time I wake up in the middle of the night I'll check. When I get back here from being in the field, I'll check. I'll show you guys how to do it. They'll never be out of our sight. I think we'll be watching out for him more than he's doing for himself."

"That's a given," Tony said.

"How d'you know that, Tim?" Alex asked at the same time.

"Well... I looked at tidal factors, and winds, and the performance specs – "

"_Probie!_"

It wasn't often Tim got barked at these days, and he winced ruefully. "Sorry... I figured he could have been in Florida three days from setting out. It's taken him just over a fortnight. I'd say he's relaxed. So Tony, maybe you can? Relax? Just a bit?"

NCISNCISNCIS

Postcards and preamble by Sopmire

The glaring morning sun shone directly upon the formerly pristine wooden planks of the _Stephanie's_ deck. He was forgiving of the scores of scratches currently highlighted into glowing gold lines.

_Dog couldn't help that. Abby might even think it was… artsy. What the hell, he'd already more or less decided he wasn't going to sell the boat anyway..._

No, it was the puddle he'd found and cleaned up that morning that brought his glare down on the dog currently leaning against his leg with sad, anxious eyes cast upward.

_Dog pee… again… on my boat._

Sighing, and sipping his third cup of morning coffee, Gibbs looked out to the bright horizon, where blue open ocean met the sunny sky.

_Well. Not like I mind the bird crap. Not like it's the mutt's first accident. And it's not like it's visible in this light. Still… sometimes the things you can't see bother worse than those you can._

Annoyingly, that made an image of a teasing DiNozzo smile flash through his mind. Looking down at Hap's sad doggie eyes caused another flash of DiNozzo looking the same way as his Boss snatched away a barely-started burrito as he sent his SFA back into the field.

Moments like this he wished he'd underlined some of his last postcard to the Doc:

Picture: Castillo de San Marcos at St. Augustine, FL.

_Starting to remember more bits and pieces than I expected. Know that's part of the point for this trip. _

_But I swear Abe… trying not to get pissed at having a damn pay per view channel going on in my head._

_G_

Refusing to sigh yet again, Gibbs took a deep breath of fresh ocean air. This close to the shore he also caught a slight whiff of earth, green plants, and what might be car exhaust.

And a slight tinge of dog pee. The furry pressure against his leg increased.

As he finished the coffee and set down his cup, he reached down and patted the dog's shoulders a couple of times. Hap, overjoyed at his human's forgiveness, gave a whoof as he did a spinning jig which succeeded in knocking himself down.

With a wide grin, Gibbs told the panting mutt, "Just as well you didn't try and piss in the scuppers like you're supposed to during the storm last night. You'd probably have fallen in again."

He reached into a sealed bag for another pig ear dog chew. Making Hap sit neatly before throwing it to his feet, the bemused man shook his head with a grin.

_May only last an hour or two, but it might keep me from losing yet another pair of shoes._

The breeze holding steady since dawn when he'd pulled up anchor meant he should be at his next stop around lunchtime. An old Marine buddy from Camp Lejeune had hooked him up with a little swankier harbor than he'd usually care for. Steve Dolman, also a former Gunny, was the Assistant Maintenance Manager at Ocean Club Marina in Port Canaveral and had guaranteed him a transient slip at a fraction of the usual rate, for however long he wanted it.

Up the road was a Barnes & Noble, so hey, he bought Moby Dick.

Glaring at the bright colors and floral patterns inside Ron Jon Surf Shop, the noisy indoor tropical waterfall and a steel drum band pressing on his last nerve, Gibbs wondered if this was some kind of tourist hell, or if he'd actually had too much to drink with Dolman last night. Or both.

There wasn't a single knick-knack or novelty mug he needed or wanted, but a few new postcards might be good. And some slight urgency was a good idea. Somebody would probably object to the dog on the leash by his side shortly. Rule #18 was good for so many occasions.

Seeing a postcard that looked like a snorkeler's wide-eyed face from one angle, and wide-open shark jaws from another, he snorted and immediately thought of Abby.

He put that postcard, a few showing the nearby Kennedy Space Center, and an over-priced pair of non-slip deck shoes on the counter in front of a tanned, sandy haired male cashier. Gibbs thought he caught a whiff of something… or was that the band?

The young man noticed the look he was getting, especially at the state of his eyeballs, and laughingly said, "No way man. Don't tell me - a cop right?" Smiling as he began ringing up the purchases, he continued, "No worries man. Totally clean, they drug test us, ok? You got to get into this whole vacation thing a little more, ok?"

Thinking of the long conversation he'd had with Dolman last night about certain types of suspicious traffic at the marina... and yes, _Mood Indigo_ had been here once before, but wasn't expected in the near future... over who knows how many shots of bourbon and beer and games of pool… Gibbs thought he was making at least some progress on the vacation front.

"Not really a vacation kind of guy."

"Yeah I get that. Lot of folks like that, not into the whole surf and sand thing. You'd probably enjoy a tour of KSC, that's real stuff out there. You former military too?"

Signing his credit card receipt, Gibbs just raised an eyebrow at the kid.

"Totally Dude. I know that look. My Dad's down at Patrick Air Force Base just to the south. Bunch of the guys that launch missiles from here got that same look. Anyway, you'll probably like KSC. Totally has the military vibe, not as much tourist stuff."

Not caring to get into it with the young man he still wasn't convinced didn't have an odd smell about him, Gibbs had already decided to do that tomorrow anyway. "Thanks kid."

"Hey, you mind leaving by the north exit? My boss is down at the south right now, he would have wanted me to hassle you about the dog, but I don't hassle anybody not hassling me man. Besides, he's a cutie. Have a great day!"

Heading to the north exit with a smirk, Gibbs was glad for the shade covering the concrete patio tables next to the building. Sitting down with relief at the relative peace and quiet, he poured Hap some water and drank the rest himself before getting out a pen. He wanted to go ahead and get Abby's postcard sent from the drug store across the street before hopping back on the trolley. He'd gotten reliable intel there was a Starbucks two stops down.

He shook his head with a grin as he watched one go by - the beach trolley was pretty much the same as the rest of the Space Coast Area Transit's buses, just painted to look like trolley cars. _Freaking tourist trap._

_Abs - Cocoa Beach/Cape Canaveral full of tourists. Had good visit with old buddy, helping with a thing for Fornell. Hap doing some better in manners, says Hi. We almost got kicked out of a surf shop, 'cept cashier thought he was cute. He's ok company, gotten pretty used to each other by now. _

_For some reason Hap keeps reminding me of DiNozzo at odd moments._

_G_

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Apologies for the delay in posting – at my daughter's house they have one teensy, unco-operative laptop, which everyone fights for.**

**I have a feeling that I've mislaid a PC somewhere in the confusion of copying and pasting to send up to the said teensy laptop... we're up to date with everything I've been sent, so if there's one missing please would the sender let me know? More apols... I think it was one to Tony...**

**So... huge thanks to Gail Cregg (again!), Veeps, Unilocular and Katesari both TWO!... Engedi6k, Cajunghost, and Laine, for your lovely contributions; they're not only super in their own right – write? - but all the authors have taken such close notice of the shape of the story it's been really easy for me to fit them together. I've not changed anything but the odd location, and two recipients – you've made it such a doddle for me, thank you all so much.**

**Binky, visual in here especially for you...**

**Finally, I don't believe I've thanked the unsigned-in guests yet – very remiss of me as Ducky might say. Thank you for your kind words!**

Hap Says Hello

Chapter 4

A phone call had assured Fornell that MCRT were at their desks, not out on a case.

"If one comes along, don't go until I've talked to you, DiNutso, got something that might interest you." Tony frowned; if Fornell was calling him direct, cell to cell, it could only mean one thing. Gibbs. His heart lurched; and he had to tell himself that Tobias hadn't sounded urgent. Still, he was on tenterhooks, which weren't eased when Ziva walked in with the FBI agent.

"Ziva!" Tim exclaimed, and stood to welcome her. Tony got up more slowly, calming his heart down. He was over her... but the sight of her still made his guts churn, and they'd been doing enough of that since he'd had the call from Tobias.

Ziva looked round, observing Alex sitting at what had been Tim's desk, and smiling graciously at her; the desk that had been her own was bare of anything personal. The Hispanic agent's answering smile was neutral.

There were hugs of welcome; "Guess I won't sulk that I don't get one," Fornell said sarcastically, then Ziva explained

"I was at the Hoover Building for an information sharing meeting; as I was leaving, I met Agent Fornell in the lobby. He said he was coming to see you, and I asked what about. He waited until we were out of the building before he explained, so I gathered there was some secrecy, and I said that the name of Kanchelskis had come up in our intel too. So I asked my team leader if I might accompany him, since I understand your interest is unofficial."

Tony looked at her seriously. "Thanks, Ziva. That's true, so we're going about it in a fairly clandestine way – word of mouth mostly."

Ziva smiled. "And does Gibbs know of all this clandestine activity?"

Tony looked at her curiously. "I sure hope not. Why?"

Ziva pulled a postcard from the tote-bag slung over her shoulder. "It would amuse him, I think. Look at what he sent me!"

Postcard idea by Gail Cregg

Picture: International Spy Museum, Washington DC

_Ziva,_

_Didn't choose this one, Abe did – but when I saw it I had to send it to you. (Blank with arrow pointing to it) Hap says hello in invisible ink._

Tony and Tim both looked, and both raised their eyebrows.

"He must be relaxing," Tony said thoughtfully.

"Mmm," Tim agreed. "He never had that much sense of humour before."

"Have you ever been to this museum, Tony?"

"Of course, Ziva. I went to see the Bond Villains exhibition. Very interesting –"

"You want me to go back and get the ones he sent me to compare, or can we get on?" Fornell asked grumpily, and Tony looked contrite, if only for a moment.

"Sorry, Tobias, shoot."

"OK… remember the blood Gibbs' hound found on the quayside? Too degraded to raise DNA, but definitely human. Twenty-four hours later, a body was found in a ditch, about five miles away, with bruising and stab-wounds. The sort of pattern that suggested brawling. The guy had received some sort of rough and ready first aid, but internal bleeding killed him in the end. No ID, but his dental work, clothing, general facial features indicated East European, so we dug a bit there. It's taken this long to identify him, but his name was Stanislas Kasic, violent petty criminal known to the French Authorities among others, as he worked his nasty way across Europe. He wouldn't have been allowed into the USA if we'd seen him coming."

"So we're theorising, not unreasonably, that one of the activities that's making Kanchelskis richer and richer, is using his luxury yacht to smuggle undesirables out of Europe before they're caught, so they can be undesirable over here," Tony snarked. "You think maybe he died because they're fighting amongst themselves?"

Fornell grimaced. "Can't argue with you there, DiNutso. Long may it continue. Our guy in Bermuda knows his big toys. Says by the sound it makes _Mood Indigo_'s got the most powerful engine spec possible for the boat. When he placed the tracker, he took his life in his hands – went above and beyond… climbed aboard and looked through the windows. It's not what you'd call luxurious – more business-like, with sleeping accommodation for twenty, and the last word in communications. Long-reach radar, and the speed to out-run anything it spots in the area."

"There is more," Ziva said seriously. "A person of interest to my team is Adam Liebecke – a South African haulier and shipping kingpin, operating out of all Mediterranean ports from Marseilles to Tripoli. With links to Kanchelskis… and Al Qaeda. Who else might the boat be bringing in? Tony, we want both men, everyone does, but please believe that I would not endanger Gibbs to get them."

"Not high on my list of priorities either, Tony," Fornell added quietly, as the whole MCRT glared balefully at him. "Aaah…" he said despairingly, and drew a brightly coloured card from an inside pocket. He held it out, and Tony took it.

"Thought you kept them at home, Toby…" he fell silent as he read.

Postcard

Picture: Disney's pink castle

_Tobias, Thought Emily might like the pic. Kinda hope that damn boat sinks somewhere in mid-Atlantic, but you tell me when and where it shows up and I'll get there. Why the hell would DiNozzo want to kill you? You're doing your damn job, and so will I. Hap says he knew it was blood._

_G._

The FBI veteran looked at Tony with something approaching sympathy. "Look," he said slowly, "I haven't found a single thing yet that could get NCIS involved officially. However, the fact that this is sea-going crime, and the US Navy may at some point in the future be required to act in ending it, entitles you to a watching brief as far as I'm concerned, and I've told my bosses that. They haven't said yea or nay yet, which is why I'm here not on the phone; they'll probably not be pleased that I've jumped the gun if they find out I've already talked to you –" he stopped Tony's protest with a cheerful wave of his hand – "but I can handle that."

He looked at the picture of _Mood Indigo_ on Tony's monitor, and shook his head, struggling to find the words for what he wanted to say without inviting a smart answer from an embarrassed DiNozzo, but the other man got there first. "I appreciate it, Tobias," he said quietly. "You could protect Gibbs, at least to your bosses' satisfaction – "

"Not to mine."

"Yeah – and not say a word to us – you're doing this for us, not him. I owe you."

"I'll collect," Fornell said as he turned to leave, more because it was expected of him than anything else.

Passing Tim's desk, Ziva stopped, looking at five postcards stuck around the stair wall behind it. She turned back to Tony, not having noticed any by his work station.

"Have you received any postcards from Gibbs, Tony?"

The Italian's tone, more than his words, said 'leave it'. "Yeah, Ziva, three. That's two more than I expected." He didn't say anything else until their visitors had gone.

As he turned towards his desk, Tim walked with him. "You only showed us one," he said sternly, and waited for a reply.

Tony knew he could give an evasive answer and Tim wouldn't push any further, but hey, he could just have said 'No' to Ziva and left it at that. He'd been wrestling with the thought of those postcards, and if he hadn't wanted to talk, he should have shut up. "OK, McSFA... I'm Gibbs and you're DiNozzoing me..."

"Yep," McGee said unrepentantly.

Tony opened a desk drawer and pulled out three cards. The top one was the one Tim had seen, but the others were new to him. Tony smiled wryly at Alex. "Come on, Mi Prueba, you won't want to miss this." He handed the bunch to Tim with an indifferent shrug. "He remembers Emily well enough to send her a Disney picture." Tim heard the pain loud and clear, and cursed silently. He put the first card to the back and read the second.

Postcard by VanishingP2000

Picture: Big Talbot Island

_DiNozzo,_

_Saw a humpback today. For some reason made me think of you._

_Damn dog does too come to that._

_He says 'Hello'._

_What is it with you and Moby Dick?_

Tim didn't know what to say. He handed it to Alex, and read the second one.

Postcard by Unilocular

Picture: Disney Parade with Mickey Mouse

_ DiNozzo. Whatever prank you're going to play on McGee, don't._

After a while Tim finally said, "Kinda disparaging. He's trying to joke, as if he remembers how you used to. But he's still in post coma mode, and he's getting it wrong."

Toy sighed. "I wasn't expecting an overnight miracle... but it's still getting to me. When did I last prank you, Mc... Tim?"

Tim winced. If Tony couldn't come up with a nickname things were bad. "You've not talked about a hot date in ages either." He kept his tone light and sympathetic, thinking about beer later. It wasn't often Tony opened up like this. The senior agent shook his head ruefully, and was about to blab, to his own surprise, that he hadn't felt like it and doubted he had the mojo right now anyway, when Alex saved him.

"Remember that card Gibbs sent to Tim?" she asked brightly. "The one where he asked Tim to keep an eye on you? He was looking out for you then." Tony almost fainted with relief that he'd been prevented from opening his mouth and making another maudlin confession. He'd have McGee dragging him out for beer next... hey, not that that was a _bad _idea exactly...

His SFA went to his desk and lifted out his own stash of postcards, four in all, and reminded Tony of the wording of the first one, and Tony managed a small but genuine grin at his team.

"Yeah... you're right." He looked at Tim's other cards, which he'd been shown when they arrived, all coastal pictures, and all neutral, mildly cheerful, and _short._ "Pity he doesn't know about Jasmine," he said. "He could send you a card or two with a pretty picture for her."

"He doesn't know me, Tony. He's not going to send me postcards," Alex said, unaware that the master of deflection had taken her mind right off worrying about him. "But yes, that'd be nice."

Tim hadn't been deflected at all, and was still thinking about beer.

Tony's desk phone rang.

"Gear up, children, we have a case."

NCISNCISNCIS

Jenny sat looking thoughtfully at the card in her hand.

Postcard by Katesari

Picture: The Pier, Jacksonville Beach

_Hey Jenny, Nice weather here. Getting more memories back. Don't know what to do  
with them yet. Mutt´s like me, likes to pick a bone and chew until it´s  
finished... or gets distracted. Hap says hello. G  
_

Gets distracted... Can you hear yourself, Jethro? Do you think I don't know about _Mood Indigo_? I can't stop you; don't know that I'd try, you may be able to do some good here, if you don't get yourself killed... so d'you know what's worrying me? Apart from you – as usual – that is? DiNozzo's enough of a law unto himself, thanks to you rubbing off on him, that I've got to watch my supervisory agent like a hawk for signs he's about to take off after you.

And what makes me hope that getting more memories back will sober you down? When I know it'll be just the opposite? As a friend, I ought not to watch Tony for flight signs... I should let him go to you. As Director I must. He belongs to the agency, even if he thinks he belongs to you. Not that you deserve him right now. Take care of yourself, Jethro...

NCISNCISNCIS

Gibbs had spent almost a fortnight in Florida – or off the coast. The climate suited him, and he acquired a tan – all over except for the beach shorts region. With the number of helicopters that buzzed around the area, he drew the line at skinny sunbathing, even on his own deck. Hap liked the climate too, and spent a lot of his time on his back with his paws in the air. Sometimes he helped Gibbs to fish.

Postcard by Katesari

Picture: The Marina, Black Point, Dade County

_Ducky, Had to get some new bait. Mutt found mine funny to play with. Keep finding maggots in odd places on my nice clean boat. Am at Dade County Marina, Black Point. Setting off again today. Hap says hello. G  
_

Yeah, probably time to move on... even with Steve Dolman smoothing the way for him, the exclusive marina was an expensive berth. It wasn't that he didn't have the money; he grudged spending it on things he neither needed nor approved of. If it hadn't been for Hap, he told himself, he'd seldom have come ashore. Nevertheless, he'd hired a truck one day, and he and Hap had explored the whole region, from Palm Beach to the Everglades. He'd been staggered by the wealth he'd seen; the beautiful people all on show... the ratio of powerboats to sailboats at the marina was about 10:1, he thought, and most of the sailboats were way bigger than _Stephanie_. In the end, they'd driven down to the most remote spot they could reach by road in the southern Everglades, and just walked around for a while where there weren't any people.

When he'd taken the truck back, he'd hesitated beside a mail box. The postcard in his pocket had been burning a hole in it, but he still didn't know whether or not to send it.

Postcard by engedi6k

Picture: Promo poster for 'Body Heat'

_DiNozzo, Saw this card in Lake Worth and thought of you. You're into movies, right. Wondering what movie you'd come up with to fit the situation here. Guess you'll have to tell Fornell. He tells me you want to kill him. Hap doesn't much care about movies unless he poops on that section of the old newspapers that he uses for a latrine. He says hello. Keep your head on swivel and watch your six. G_

He'd written it days ago... still wasn't sure about that last line... but wasn't it something they did? Watch each other's backs? DiNozzo had told him he was going to watch his no matter what, and he really hadn't figured why... but something was telling him it hadn't been a one way thing.

He'd pulled the rather bent card from his pocket and then shoved it back again. Now, as he dropped the card for Ducky in the marina's mail box, he drew it out yet again. It was getting the worse for wear, just about moulded to the shape of his backside. Maybe he ought to write a new one... but DiNozzo would appreciate this one, wouldn't he? He thrust it into the slot before he could change his mind. Done.

"C'mon, fella. _Hap!_ Get your nose out of that waste bin!" The guilty mutt came to heel, and they went back to the _Stephanie_. A guy from the adjacent berth gave them a shove off, and they headed out. They'd follow the line of the Florida Keys, although he didn't intend to go ashore; he wanted to see the Dry Tortugas and Fort Jefferson, and then head round the west end of Cuba to Isla de la Juventud, the longest leg of the voyage so far. The best laid plans...

Postcard by Cajunghost

Picture: Fort Jefferson from the air

_Ducky  
Reached the Tortugas and I thought about you and all the stories you used to tell of your adventures, now I wish I'd paid more attention to them. Had some close calls with the weather and some pirates but they didn't know who they where messing with. Hap helped! Had to head back to Key West to make some repairs afterwards. All in all, pleasant trip. Take care. Hap says hello.  
Gibbs._

Postcard by Unilocular

Picture: Night Scene, Havana

_Abs – new dolphin pod following the boat. Hap tried to share his ball with them. Don't think he'll be getting it back. Strong tailwind heading me towards Cuba ahead of schedule. Not that I've got one. Hap says hello._

_G_

Postcard by Laine 3112

Picture: Breakers on the shore, stormy day, Cuba

_Hey Abs,_

_Arrived in Isla de la Juventud after far too many nights at sea without the company of the fairer sex. By the time I came ashore I could have humped the leg off a grand piano._

_What can I tell ya? When ya got an itch ya gotta scratch it. _

_I spent the first few hours getting the feel for the place - marking my territory as it were - when I caught the scent of the prettiest bit of tail I'd ever seen. She was just what the doctor ordered…right up until that guy threw a bucket of water over us. It's true what they say - every dog has his day._

_Gibbs says hi._

_Hap_

TBC

**AN: This group write's so much fun, says the lazy writer... hope you've enjoyed it so far!**


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: First of all, thanks very much to kunturorqo, who I badgered a bit, for her lovely St Bernard! Huge thanks too to me old mate binkeybella for her long pc full of iguanas, and the psychology behind it...**

**Thanks too to the lady who does my hair for a great doggie idea!**

**And then, out of the blue, and also very welcome, a postcard to someone I never thought about, and a lovely bit of Gibbs self-analysis arrived from another of our formidable Aussie writers, so thanks so much, Gail, for that! And thanks for sending it a second time when Muggins lost it...**

**Gail wrote it in present tense, and it read so well I didn't want to change it, so I hope it doesn't come over as contrived, set as a retrospection.**

**Oh... and since this **_**is**_** AU, and I won't be returning to this 'verse, I figure it's OK to break rule 12 a bit...**

Hap Says Hello

Chapter 5

Postcard and text by Gail Cregg

Picture: Barely Bikini Wearing Babe.

_Mike,_

_Weather hot. Beer cold. Fishing great. Boat not sunk. Memories returning. Some clearer than others. Did you really almost marry the same woman twice? Hap says Hello._

_Probie._

He finds himself smiling as he recalls Mike relaxing with a beer on the deck and supervising his own efforts at repairs. Of course this supervising usually only extended as far as pointing him in the direction of the tool box and passing the odd item but that was all that was needed. After the recent events spending time in Mexico with his old mentor simply eating, drinking, sleeping and working had been the best therapy possible, physically if not mentally.

Whatever the others might think he had not run away to hide. He had not run from doing his duty. He'd gone to Mike's because the fools at the top had not listened. He'd given everything he had and almost lost his life, yet it had not made a difference. He had nothing left to contribute and somehow, deep down knew that those he was leaving behind, Jenny, Tony, Tim, Abby, Ducky and the agency could carry on, could manage without him. Not remembering much in his gut, he had still known that.

He adds the postcard to the stack to be mailed at the next stop. With that task complete he settles himself in his bunk for the afternoon rest he had promised both Abe and Duck he would try to have at least for the first few weeks. Sometimes he finds himself sleeping for short periods but usually he just stares at the cabin or out at the water from a chair on the deck and lets his mind wander where it will. People, places, cases. His girls. His team. His brothers-in-arms. Many long gone. All have appeared and then disappeared with the breeze. With the opening of his eyes.

Memories of his girls Shannon and Kelly are understandably the clearest. Perhaps tinted a bit with the bias of love and the passing of time but there and easy to recall as he has so many times in the past.

Introspection and indulging in remembering the past had never really been a part of his life before the explosion forced him to it. In fact this all might be being made harder as a result of a lifetime spent avoiding doing those very things. Despite what Abby might have tried to get him to open up, and she had done, hadn't she... somehow he knew that had happened... about the closest he has come to this in the past would probably be the very occasional shared confidence over a drink with Ducky. All his life he has kept his pain to himself and 'got on with the job', whatever job that might be at the time.

Studying, chores and working on his car after his Mom died. He'd never realised until now, but that was when he'd set the pattern for later life, and building boats in his basement. The next task; keeping faith when his comrades were falling in the desert dust. Joining NIS when the girls were killed. The case when an agent was lost. He'd go down into the basement and focus on the moment. Concentrate on the wood and push any hint of feelings, of emotion away. It was his means of survival.

Yet is survival living? Pushing everyone away? Living only for his work? What will his life be if this situation can't be fixed? If he _can't_ return, at least in some capacity, to NCIS? Jenny seemed to be implying that him not returning was a very real possibilty. No, wait, be honest, she didn't. She said he was too valuable to lose and there'd be something for him if he came back healed enough to do it. She'd meant that it was up to _him_. Him and no-one else. Surely there's more to Leroy Jethro Gibbs than being an agent? There must be people who matter to him? Who care about him? Who he cares about?

He sighs and sits up. Both Abe and Ducky had been insistent that he not try and force things. That he just let the memories flow whenever they did. It was so damn frustrating! He glances at the clock. It's about time to feed Hap...

NCISNCISNCIS

The same polite nudge to his hand that had broken him from that introspection roused him again as he recalled it in detail. Same time of day, doing about the same old thing... Sometimes he had to listen to the radio to remind himself of the day and date; Hap never forgot the time though.

He rolled off his bunk, rubbed the chocolate hound's ears and patted his rough coat. "OK, fella, you'n me'll both have something to eat and figure where we're going next." Hap grinned and wagged his tail. At least the milk chocolate mutt was easily pleased... a thought occurred to Gibbs, and he needed to check something.

After he'd given Hap his dinner, he stood in the wheelhouse, spreading out the charts on their table one-handed while he held a sandwich in the other. After studying for a moment, with a frown beginning to hover, he stepped back. "Yep, thought so. Last two stops, Puerto Rico, Turks and Caicos,we've been heading in the general direction of home, Hap. And I was planning on the Bahamas next, that's same direction..." Hap came and stood by him looking serious. "Ya know what, boy? I'm bored to death... one tropical island paradise looks just like another. Never thought I'd hear myself say such a thing... but if it wasn't for that damn boat, we'd be going home, memory or not."

He took his sandwich and a mug of coffee out onto the deck, and sat on the gunwale. Hap sat down by him – whatever the boss dog decided was fine by him. Food, water, pat on the head, love... he was happy.

"Ya know, the only interesting thing that's happened in weeks was that Australian guy in Antigua... wait 'til I tell Abs..."

_The large, middle-aged man emerging from the tackle store swore mildly as his hat blew off in the stiff breeze. He made to run after it, but Hap was faster. As soon as the offending straw cadie came down to earth again, he was on it, like the retriever at least part of him was, and instead of clamping his jaws round it and ruining it, as he would have done a few weeks ago, he trotted back with it held delicately._

_"Nice work, Doodle," the man said as Hap brought him his prize, his accent clearly Antipodean. "Thanks," he added to Gibbs. "They're smart dogs, aren't they? The breed," he went on as Gibbs looked puzzled. _

_"Breed? I thought he's just a mutt," Gibbs said honestly._

_"Hell no... 'less I'm much mistaken, he's a Labradoodle."_

Gibbs tried to hide his incredulity; little as he cared for niceties laughing at a friendly stranger would have been rude, even by his standards. "A Labradoodle? That's a breed?"

_"Well, more a deliberate cross.. officially recognized... sought after, in Oz at least. Ya didn't know?"_

_"I rescued him. No microchip... just figured he was an unwanted accident. Decent friend though."_

_"Yeah," the Australian agreed, "they're all of that." He stuck out a friendly hand. "Terry O'Bannion. Here on a fishing trip. I breed German Shepherds for the Australian services, and the police. Kind of know my dogs."_

_"Jethro Gibbs... work for a US federal agency. Sailing my boat." He made an instant decision. Gesturing across the street to a pavement cafe, he said "Buy you a coffee? Trade for some information on my hound?"_

So now he knew that the name had come from Sir Donald Campbell, no less , and the idea, originating in Australia, had been to breed a dog as astute and willing as a Labrador as an assistance dog, but without the sort of coat that shed and sometimes caused allergic reactions. It was too bad for instance, if a blind person's faithful guide dog had them sneezing all the time. The cross had become popular in its own right, as an intelligent, unusual and good natured pet, and Terry had had some ideas on Hap's origins.

_"Y'see, the most popular is a dog who's shaped like a Labrador, with a Poodle's curly coat. But it's a cross, not a breed, so you can't predict a pup's characteristics. Now Hap, his coat's rough, but not curly, and I'd guess he sheds like a Lab... his nose is a bit too long for a Lab too – y'know, I'd take a guess on some unscrupulous puppy farmer thinking he'd make a mint, finding he'd bred a nice natured mutt, OK cross," he said hastily, as Hap snuffled, "not a money spinner, and accidentally 'lost' him... You might find out more if you had a look at who's breeding in the area you found him. You'd never prove anything, but you might know a bit more. Give us a paw, Hap..." and as Hap solemnly shook hands, the man from Melbourne grinned. "You've got a good'n here, Jethro, you hang on to him."_

"Ya remember, Hap? I told him I would. Lucky we met him, huh?" He patted the dog's rough back again. "Now, maybe we'll get lucky again and hear that boat's sunk, or at least it'll start heading this way again and we can _do_ somethin'. Y'know, I'm missing DC. Let's head for the Bahamas, then we're nearer to home."

It was harder to talk to Fornell out here, but he was getting through, via the US and West Indian Coast Guards, so Gibbs knew where _Mood Indigo_ was, and had an idea of why. Never moving at the sort of speed she was capable of, probably to conceal how fast she truly was from curious eyes, she had headed for the Azores, even though heavy seas had been predicted. She had limped into Flores on one engine, with a broken drive shaft in the other. At first the ostensible owner, Martin Uriel, had been furious, threatening everyone from the boat builder to the Bermuda Meteorological Office with lawsuits, and then he'd abruptly stopped.

"Told by Kanchelskis to back off and stop attracting attention, you can bet," Fornell had said dryly.

Nevertheless, an expert and the replacement part had to be flown from Lisbon, which took time, as did the repair, so whatever _Mood Indigo_'s intended business had been, it was on hold. The FBI watched activity around her by satellite, but didn't put a person on the spot to watch; Lajes de Flores was too small a place to risk a watcher being spotted. In the mean time, Gibbs waited. (Back in Washington, MCRT went about their work, but _never_ forgot to keep checking those trackers.)

Returning in his mind to that very introspective day, about two weeks ago, he began to make a mental list of what he'd concluded since... and then he rose from his perch on the gunn'l and fetched the red journal. More than seven weeks after leaving Occonquan, five of them bumming happily round one tropical haven after another, he'd still written nothing more. He'd not brought a pen out from the wheelhouse... now there was his subconscious leading him. He didn't _want _to write anything. No way was any smart-arse subconscious going to tell Leroy Jethro Gibbs what to do; he got up again and marched back to the chart table, returning with one of Abe's golf-club ball-points.

Hap watched the comings and goings with mild interest, but decided he was too comfortable where he was to bother joining in. He grinned, stretched, farted and settled down for an after dinner nap. Gibbs went to sit on the opposite side of the boat.

OK, he'd been kidding himself about the Mexican siesta having been good for him mentally. (And physically? Hell, he'd still come back with the mother of all headaches, and an evil temper to match.) He'd spent his time thinking about his girls, and resolutely _not_ thinking about his team, which didn't exactly prepare him for working with them when he hardly knew them.

Those memories of Shannon and Kelly... so painful, but he'd have died rather than lose them... the good ones of camping trips; or snuggling, the three of them under one blanket as they watched TV... he smiled. Then he frowned. The bad ones – Kelly's tears and his own breaking heart when he was deployed, and Shannon's resolution and loyalty when they moved away from her Mom... if he wasn't afraid of facing those memories, both good and bad, why was he being such a coward about facing the memories of his life since them? They couldn't all be bad, could they? They were his _team_, not some strangers.

Who were they really? One he felt some sort of half-assed affection for because she hit him round the head – he still felt there was something not quite right about that; and he still didn't _know_ her... He remembered what she'd done for him all right... but the headslap... that didn't go with her... One he saw as boring, and virtually ignored except when he had a computer problem, no, he'd not been fair to the quiet McGee; was just about indifferent to his existence really except when he wanted someone to yell at, and yet he'd chosen him, hadn't he? One he disliked intensely, so much it curdled his guts even looking at him – but was still mad when he left the team. He knew what he'd felt, but understood less and less _why_.

Abby... well, he didn't remember the details, but the feeling, that came straight back. Ducky... his conscience... wasn't too pleased with him... yeah, he was starting to understand why. Just needed details. Didn't _want _them...

He'd also kidded himself about them managing without him. Sure they _could_, and they _did_, but they didn't want to, and it was clear that they'd given DiNozzo a hard time, for all that the deposed senior agent had said about how they'd come on. And what had he done? Fed them, encouraged them, driven the Italian off the team and _then_ accused him of quitting.

Why did he even debate that there were people he cared about? Well, that was then; this was now. He cared. He wanted to put things right. But he didn't know what, and he didn't know _how_. And he didn't know why, but somehow he regretted the last postcard he'd sent DiNozzo.

NCISNCISNCIS

Alex and Tim stood close in the elevator, grinning like teenagers. It wasn't as if they'd _done_ anything last night – not saying they wouldn't, they just hadn't _yet_, but after Aunt Jackie had gone off to bed they _ha_d sat together on the sofa, kissed experimentally a few times, quite a few times, and decided they liked it. They'd take it slow.

_"I... er... I'm taking Alex out for a meal tonight, Tony."_

_The Boss beamed. "Nice. Where?"_

_"You don't mind?"_

_"Do I have a bad haircut? Have I gone grey?"_

_Now Tim smiled. "I get it. You're not Gibbs. "_

_For the first time ever, the words didn't tear Tony in half. "No, I'm not. You're all grown up, both of you, and you can make your own decisions without me trying to stick my nose in." They were walking out to their cars, and Tony stopped. He looked at his SFA seriously. "Only thing I would say... if you get involved, and it __**doesn't **__work out – and I hope it does – you've got to find some way of staying friends. Because if you can't, you can't work together, and Alex would have to find a new team. I wouldn't like that. She's right for us and we're right for her. She's had it tough and we can look out for her. I don't want to lose her." _

_His friend had just nodded thoughtfully – it wasn't as if he disagreed with a single word Tony had said._

"If it were Gibbs," Tim said cheerfully, "we'd be having to arrive separately."

"With Tony," Alex added, "it wouldn't matter. He'd know anyway."

"I used to think he was the nosiest guy I'd ever met... and I'm not saying I've changed my mind on that. But I've realised that it's a natural trait he exploits to protect us. He likes to know what's going on in case he _needs_ to know what's going on."

"Jenny told me he was the best... I think she just meant as an agent – but it's more than that." Alex sighed, but it was a happy sound. "I'm so lucky to have ended up on the same team as you both."

"Luck," Tim said severely, steepling his fingers, "has nothing to do with it. Tony picked you out of a pile; there has to be a reason he chose you. You earned it. What d'you bet he wants to know where we went, what we ate..."

The door slid open, and they looked straight across into the bull pen, where Tony already sat at his desk. He was looking at something on his desk, so absorbed in it that he hadn't heard the ping of the arriving car, and only noticed his team as the door swished shut again. _Always be aware of your surroundings, DiNozzo... _he chided himself, then put on a determined smile.

"Probie y Prueba! So, good time last night?"

Alex hadn't noticed the face being carefully assembled; but he saw that Tim, who'd known him far longer, hadn't been fooled. No point in hiding the postcards then... however little he liked it, he'd told himself when he first took over the team for the second time that he would let people in, he wouldn't dismiss his colleagues – friends – with a brusque 'fine'.

"Good food, great jazz pianist..." Tim leaned over and hit the power button on his computer, force of habit, then grinned at Alex, "Very pleasant company. I enjoyed myself... don't know about Alex."

"Don't be daft. You know I did."

Tim pointed to the postcards ranged out on his friend's desk. "Did they all arrive at once?"

"These two. You've seen the others."

"So...?"

Tony sighed. "Should be checking the reports from yesterday, but here I am trying to figure things out."

"Go on." Both Tim and Alex spoke at once, and pulled their chairs up.

"Remember the film one? Body Heat? We agreed that was a bit more friendly... not disparaging unless you count Hap using the film page to poop on as being a comment on my interest in movies."

"I was pretty certain we agreed it wasn't," Tim protested.

Tony smiled, but it was a weary and not particularly happy one. "So this was promising... I think – even if he's starting to remember one of my many embarassing moments in this job..." He handed it to Tim.

Postcard by binkybella

Picture: West Beach, Grand Turk

_DiNozzo,_

_Lots of iguanas around here, not sure why they make me think of you every damned time I see got one for a pet or something? Someone told me they're an endangered species, made me think of both of us for some reason. Guess what the major industry is here? Yup, boat building. Think they drink rum, not bourbon. Hap says too hot and mosquito-y here, but I think you'd like it. Lots of skimpy bikinis and big... beaches. G_

"Not putting me down, at least... but d'you think he'll ever remember something good I did?"

"He's remembering something," Tim said positively. "Both of you being an endangered species; some scrape you got into together? Got out of together? It's as if he's compelled to write to you... doesn't want to, needs to – but he doesn't know what to say and he gets clumsy."

"Mmm. Try this one then. Written _later_. From Nassau... odds are they arrived together because the Grand Turk one came via the Bahamas."

"How the heck did he get hold of this in the Windies?"

"I don't know – maybe I'm paranoid, maybe fate in the form of an obdurate, stubborn, cranky old bastard of an ex boss_ is _out to get me..."

Alex leaned in and read the card with Tim.

Postcard by kunturorqo

Picture: St. Bernard dog in snow scene, with barrel on collar

_DiNozzo Stared at this card for 10 minutes. Finally just bought the blasted thing as it reminds me of you. Damned if I know why – maybe it's the whiskey barrel. And if you're cooking up anything with Fornell, don't. I don't need anybody else. Been watching my own six for years._

Tim looked up, outraged. "That is so bloody unfair."

His Boss smiled sadly; you didn't hear language out of McGee very often. "It's brandy," he said inconsequentially.

"Tony?"

"In the barrel. It's brandy. Medicinal. Not whiskey."

"Yeah. So you're trying to figure out why he wrote _that _after he'd been trying to loosen up."

"Trying. Failing." He swept up the cards, put them in a drawer and closed it firmly. "Scuse the outburst. Forget it. To work, children... we should be –" His desk phone rang, just as Tim said urgently, "Tony –"

DiNozzo said "Hold on," apologetically, and answered the phone first. "Yeah, Tobias... ah. Thanks."

As he put the phone down, Tim pointed to what he'd put on the big screen. He and Tony both said at the same time, "_Mood Indigo_'s on the move again."

TBC

**AN: A bit rambling, but I hope the look into Gibbs' thoughts was convincing! Action soon...**


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: I haven't said thanks to unsigned-in reviewers for a while – thanks to all, Carneu and Popsnouk for their thoughtful comments, and the unsigned guest who simply wants to **_**hurt**_** Gibbs. O-Kay...**

**Big thanks ytteb, kunturorqo and binks for some bits of inspiration. Even when there are no words being contributed to the group write it's still happening!**

**And trust ytteb... last minute, just right PC arrives just in time to go in. I swear I'd written the grooming sequence before it arrived, luv! **

Hap Says Hello

Chapter 6

Postcard – and picture – by ytteb

Picture: Plain post card with hand-drawn heap of dog hair with 2 blue eyes and mop  
of grey hair peeping over the top.

_Hey Abs, seem to remember something about you and panda poo. Got any ideas  
about Hap's hair? Feel a bit like PigPen ... trailing a cloud of fluff behind  
me. Hate waste ... must be good for something._

G.

_Mood Indigo _was heading for Bermuda, and Gibbs remained in Nassau waiting for information. The FBI were picking up the tab for the expensive mooring at Potter's Quay to make sure he did.

Hap stood up on the transome, so that most of the hair would fall overboard, something close to ecstasy as boss-dog groomed him. "Ya know what the next step in your training is? Gonna tie a hand-brush to your tail, and you can sweep up all the hair yourself. Hold the dustpan in your teeth... you'll be done in no time." It was a warm evening, and the water inside the man-made lagoon was very calm. He'd rather have been at anchor some way out from land, with the gentle swell moving _Stephanie_ in a sleepy, lullaby rhythm...

When Hap was done, they sat out on the deck, Hap with his nose on the transome again, looking out at the water and the other craft, Gibbs in the circle of light from the single mast lamp; the ambient light from all around would have been enough, but he found he had that journal on his knee again. If he were out at anchor he wouldn't have the laughter and screams of the beautiful people jarring him out of his favourite, empty-minded doze mode; here he was having to _think_.

He wished he hadn't sent any postcards to DiNozzo... he simply wasn't sure if what he'd said in any of them made the slightest sense. But if he hadn't sent to DiNozzo but had to McGee, would that have seemed odd? Unfair? Why the hell had Abe told him to send the damn things anyway... look at the trouble it was causing.

The Shannon-angel on his shoulder spoke more clearly than ever before, and he sat stock-still, listening. Hap read the change in him, got up hurriedly, and came over to sit by him, on guard. Damn dog read his moods like DiNozzo...

_Will you quit blaming other people, Jethro? _His wife's lilting voice was so gentle in his ear it made his eyes moist. _The postcards were a good idea. Don't you want to sort your head out?And stop comparing Tony to a dog. You even used to do it in front of the team. He's far more than a loyal St. Bernard, and you know it. You think he doesn't care, because he laughs things off... but he internalises pain. You think you do... but you shout about it and throw it around, without ever telling anyone what the pain __**is**__, because it's none of their damn business._

He winced, smiled and sighed all at the same time, as Shannon-angel did a wicked impression of his own voice.

_Tony over-thinks things, _she went on severely. _You... sometimes you don't think at all before you open your mouth. Or maybe you just don't care. You can be selfish, you know. If something you say or do hurts someone, that's their problem... it's what you want to do so you just do it. And you know, although you're doing your damndest __**not**__ to know, who takes the brunt of it, because he cares about you, you damn fool, and goes on taking it with a grin. Or at least he used to. I really think you've screwed the pooch this time._

Hap snuffled anxiously, and Gibbs looked at him. He caught that glimpse again that had made him uneasy before – snatching a burrito out of DiNozzo's hand and sending him back out to a crime scene. While the younger man had been gone, he'd eaten the burrito himself.

"Ah, _dammit_, DiNozzo..." Hap flinched and backed off at the harsh tone, and Gibbs soothed him. "Ssh... sorry, fella..." Rule six broken... for a dog. Gibbs didn't like what he was seeing just now.

_You want to remember, sweetheart. So suck it up._

"Sure, honey..." he murmured. "Shan, you're being rough on me tonight." A soft chuckle was his only answer.

He hadn't recognised, although Hap had, that he was sinking into that deeply meditative, introspective state that he'd first encountered two weeks ago; and he hadn't realised that his imagining of his wife's voice was with love, and without pain, for the first time ever. It was in that state, as a police vehicle went by in the distance, that he remembered blue lights. Green eyes, glazed over with the effort of breathing. The order not to die... obeyed, dammit! You told him to live, Jethro, and he lived! Back to work, far too early... 'You need me, Boss,' dropped in casually, as if it were no matter... but underneath, a desperate plea to know that he _was_ needed... and shit, you never answered, did you?

Gibs groaned aloud, and was dimly aware of a comforting wet nose pushed into his hand. Yeah, far too early, but in time to save McGee's life, and Kate... Kate... he'd given her an extra day with those who loved her, before – before Ari. And now he knew why he'd had 'Moby Dick' sitting on the ledge by his bunk and totally avoided reading it, for all his good intentions. He sat for a long while, reliving that time. Tony had saved Abby too, taking her down before the terrorist could take another shot, and kill both his girls in one dreadful day. A tear slid down his cheek... and he was never one for tears. These were the memories he'd feared, and _needed_, because without them he was denying and dishonouring his people, the living and the dead.

_Abby and Kate. You didn't_ _find it difficult to love them, did you? In spite of losing us. Think about it. _It was as if she left at that point. He sat up straight, and the forgotten journal slid from his lap. Hap picked it up delicately, without being asked, and handed - or mouthed - it back to him.

_You may want to redefine it when you remember – might not ever have been what you wanted and I just dumped it on you._

He stared for a while, then wrote slowly, _What happened to rule five? You don't waste good._

He rubbed Hap's ears, and said solemnly, "I still don't really understand, feller. But I'll find out. I'll talk to him, and I'll find out. And I'll make it right. I don't give a damn about that boat, and I'll pay my own fees. Tomorrow, we head home."

He reached for a rope that hung over the side, and pulled up the sack with a can of beer keeping cool. The fridge was another thing that ate electricity. He popped the ring-pull, and made a toast gesture towards the stars with the can. "DiNozzo..." and at that moment, from inside the wheelhouse, Channel 16 squawked into life.

NCISNCISNCIS

"He's already on his way, Tony. When I spoke to him last night he said he was heading for home, but then I explained what was going on." Tobias knew what effect his words were having, and waited for the explosion. Tony didn't explode – he wasn't Gibbs. And anyway, they'd gone, the three of them, to the Hoover Building, since the whole thing was out in the open now, and no way was Tony going to let go and scream in the heart of the enemy's camp. He saw from Fornell's face that there was something to scream about, though.

"What else?" he asked finally.

"_Mood Indigo_ seems to be heading for that same inlet where Gibbs first spotted her. She's not hurrying. Gibbs set out last night, and sailed through the dark. He'll get there first."

"It's too small," Tony said furiously. "The place. It's too damn small."

"How d'you know that?" This was Fornell's boss, Section Head Wade Twentyman.

"Ever heard of Googlesat? I've looked, have you? If _Mood Indig_o's there, there's no room for anything else at the quay. There's room for just two smaller boats at the jetty Gibbs used. They can't fail to see him! And if they're half as paranoid as you'd expect them to be, they'll remember him. 'Hey Skipper, that sloop's here again!' And all those wonderful communications your man in Bermuda spotted? Ten minutes until they know who he is. Two if they've got a McGee on board. Tell him not to go."

"His observations could be very valuable to us..." Twentyman began.

"What sort of a half-assed excuse is that for sending a man into danger? Without back-up? How much observation d'you expect him to make before they board him and throw him in the creek? 'The boat's arrived' – you'll know that from the GPS. And your own tracker. This is crazy. Call. Him. Off."

"He's going to dismount his mast," Twentyman started again. "We'll have a local person tell anyone who asks that he's been there all the time, doing repairs."

"Have you found a local person willing to lie to Kanchelskis's people?" Alex spoke just as furiously as Tony had. Twentyman looked at her as if probies should be seen and not heard, but she ploughed on as Tony looked at her proudly. "Kanchelskis finds a quiet inlet, where his boat can go about whatever she's doing without being noticed. To make things even more secure, he buys or threatens any local who might be around."

Tim looked up from the laptop he'd been working at. "Even if you could find your local person, Agent Twentyman, it'd take them ten minutes to back-track _Stephanie_'s GPS and disprove it. Something else," he went on heavily, before Twentyman could speak. "We've got a local guy in Bermuda too... he says that while she was there, _Mood Indigo_ had some of the spartan sleeping accommodation converted into a couple of luxury suites. Maybe Kanchelskis is going to use the boat himself. Maybe with company." He met that same proud, delighted look from his Boss, then his eyes widened. "Tony..."

The senior agent realised what he was about to say, and turned on Twentyman. "Is Special Agent McGee right, Agent Twentyman?"

"Right...? He hasn't said anything!"

"Is he right? You're using Gibbs as bait to see if Kanchelskis is there?" He got in the Feebie's face. "You're using one of ours as bait? You're treating Gibbs as expendable? You're a helluva man, Agent Twentyman, a wonderful planner and a wonderful human being. What have you got on Kanchelskis? Nothing? As usual? You're sending Gibbs in there to find out if someone's there you can't arrest anyway? Unless he personally kills Gibbs?" He shoved his hands into his Versace pockets so he couldn't throttle the man, and turned to his team. "C'mon, guys, we've got work to do."

His phone rang as they left the building. "My glorious leader says I can take one small team. Heading out now. Picking up local guys in Beaufort."

" Beaufort. Thanks Tobias..."

NCISNCISNCIS

Gibbs didn't plan to dismount his mast. He didn't trust Twentyman's competence, and had his own ideas. As soon as he tied up at the familiar jetty, slightly weary after non-stop sailing, he set about reefing the sails and putting the canvas covers on. He took down the Marine Association pennant, removed pilferable items like the GPS transmitter and life raft, and stored them below. As darkness fell, he had_ Stephanie_ looking like a boat laid up for a few months. He and Hap packed some food and liquids, and found themselves a secluded spot where they could watch the sea.

NCISNCISNCIS

"Adam, my friend..." Igor Kanchelskis held out a hand to personally help his associate aboard his yacht, then shook his hand. The launch that had brought him peeled away immediately; it carried no GPS, and the South African freighter it had come from was in international waters, but it still had no wish to attract attention. "Welcome aboard! Since you can't go ashore, we'll take a pleasant cruise as soon as I've picked up my supplies."

"I thought you'd have done that already," Adam Liebecke said with faint unease. He trusted Kanchelskis as much as he trusted anyone, but he knew he wasn't welcome in US waters, let alone on their soil, and the thought of going right up to a quayside somewhere didn't sit well with him.

Kanchelskis was genuinely apologetic. "I would have done but for that broken shaft. I picked up some stuff in Bermuda... but here, now _here_ I have two beautiful young ladies waiting to join us. The cruise will be so much more pleasant with female company, don't you think?"

Out on the headland, Gibbs watched the rendezvous, and called Tobias, not Twentyman.

Fornell was aware of the presence of a South African ship belonging to Liebecke out there off the coast. "Jethro, I don't like this. Be careful. Watch your six!"

"Sure," Gibbs whispered, and disconnected. The words gave him an uneasy jolt. He'd told DiNozzo he didn't need anyone... he wished right now that he had the Italian backing him. He and Hap set off to walk through the gathering darkness, back along the inlet, following the motor yacht by the sound of her powerful engines throttled right back, and the occasional gleam of her white hull through the trees.

It had been a good plan. Even though everyone on the big yacht was in a constant state of alert, (Kanchelskis paid well and didn't employ fools,) nobody aboard took the slightest notice of the laid up sloop as they tied up to the quay... until one young seaman thought of his girlfriend.

"That's funny, Skip... I think that's the same boat that was here last time we were... I remember the name, and the way it was painted."

"You sure, son?"

"Yeah, Skip. Stephanie's my girl's name."

"Nice spot." The Captain went down to what would have been called the radio room in a lesser vessel. "Boat across there," he said to the operator, and gave him its ID lettering. "Need to know who it belongs to, PDQ, Lars."

"Give me five, Skip," Lars grinned, and it took him three. "Uh-oh. Leroy Jethro Gibbs, NCIS Special Agent. Have we done anything to attract their attention?"

The Captain's only answer was a thoughtful frown. "Night scan," he said finally, and came to watch over the technical expert's shoulder as he rotated the infra-red camera slowly. The figure of the man and the dog, sitting still maybe a hundred yards away in the shadow of a storage shed was clear to both men. The Captain rang a number. "Gerry, that berthed sloop – has it been there long?"

"Came in this afternoon. Couldn't see why he was shutting it up when he's got no transport. Something familiar about it..."

"Thanks," the Captain said curtly, and disconnected. He wasn't one to bother the Boss with trivialities. It was time to bother the Boss.

Adam Liebecke, seeing the efficient, immaculately uniformed man in urgent conversation with his host, abruptly left the beautiful Eurasian girl for whom he'd been pouring a highball, and went over. What he heard alarmed and angered him. "Igorek, you said we were safe here. We're being spied on? We can't stay here. I can't stay here. We -"

"Adam, I'll take care of it personally."

"There's a shore party waiting for orders, landward side of the boat," the Captain said. "The watcher can't see them."

Kanchelskis nodded. "Stay put, Alex. It'll be fine." He left quickly. The Captain turned to reassure his guest, and found himself looking down the muzzle of a Ruger.

"It _will_ be fine, Captain. You'll put to sea as soon as your Boss has left the boat. And call for my launch from the _Aleiah Liebecke. _I regret, I must leave."

The shore party hurried silently along the far shore, and across the plank bridge where the inlet became a creek. In their hiding place, Gibbs and Hap kept watch on the boat, but in the dark, without night vision glasses, they couldn't see much. Hap pricked up an ear, but Gibbs couldn't hear anything. After a while, he said, "Come on, Hap, we need to get closer."

There was a click in the darkness as a gun cocked. "I don't think so, Special Agent Gibbs. Please don't move – " as Gibbs tensed to do just that – "you're outnumbered, and I'll begin by shooting your dog. Now, what are you doing here?"

Gibbs was cursing internally. Of course it had been stupid to come here by himself... what had he been thinking... he could see four men in the ambient light, as well as the one who held the gun, who he was prepared to bet was Kanchelskis himself. The mountain had actually come to Mahomet. Five... he and Hap against five... he didn't know if Hap had any idea how to fight, and he didn't want him hurt.

"_Retired_ Special Agent Gibbs," he said. "Out for a walk with my dog. Liked the look of that big thing. Sat down a while to watch." He wondered if they could move quickly enough to disappear into the darkness.

"Neat. But I doubt it. Who sent – " Kanchelskis was interrupted by the roar of powerful engines starting up, and the sight of _his_ boat moving away from the quay. "What the hell –" Gibbs went for him and the gun. Take the leader out. Divide and conquer. One punch put the crooked magnate on the floor, but then his men unfroze themselves and sprang into action. It was an unequal fight, as no sooner had Gibbs dealt with one than another came at him, sometimes for a second time..

Something hit the Marine across the back of the head; lights exploded in his brain and he stumbled onto his hands and knees, head spinning. Kanchelskis picked up his fallen pistol and aimed down at him, eyes mad. Nobody had assaulted him since his early days smuggling cigarettes... Hap leapt with a snarl and clamped his jaws on the Ukrainian's wrist, as Gibbs struggled to rise, and one of the other fighters waved his gun about hopefully, trying to shoot without hitting the Boss. Gibbs flung himself at him, only half able to see him, and the fight began again, with the Marine knowing it could only have one end. He couldn't just give up though...

A vicious blow to his kidneys, another to his ribs and a boot smashing into his knee had him on the floor, winded and struggling; the figures became a ring around him, getting ready to kick his lights out... and another dark figure exploded into the midst of them.

Gibbs watched... not a Marine, not that style of fighting... no style at all really, just whatever suited – but an unassailable, unstoppable ferocity that quickly had three men down, one looking as if he wasn't getting up in a while... The figure kicked, punched, windmilled and butted, and when one man got up again a few feet away, he took two quick steps and drop-kicked him in the midriff. This time he didn't move.

That left three, although the boss was still trying to deal with the chocolate-brown fury clamped on his arm, and Gibbs tried to get up to help, but his knee gave out. The dark figure glanced over at him, then returned his attention to the other two men. He linked both hands and brought them up hard under one man's chin – he flew backwards, feet off the ground, and disappeared into the inlet. That left one – his helper staggered, regaining some lost equilibrium, and heaving deep breaths in. Gibbs saw the flash of a knife and croaked, "Look out..."

The man with the blade didn't fancy taking this maniac on at close quarters, and threw it. The dark figure grunted... pulled the knife out of his shoulder, and advanced on him. The guy yelped and fled, only to run into people with flshlights and guns, running down from the bridge towards them. Hap guarded his prisoner a short distance away. The dark figure dropped the knife and sank exhaustedly to the ground, and Gibbs began to crawl hesitantly towards him.

"Tony..."

Blood ran between fingers clamped to a shoulder. Green eyes shrivelled him. "'I don't need anybody else'", DiNozzo said flatly. "'Been watching my own six for years.'"

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: Be warned... couple of F words here – only used when nothing else will do.**

**Big thanks to Maunzeli for some very good legal and technical advice. Really helped, gal!**

**Kunturoqo – you'll see that your PC I originally thought I couldn't fit in has become a rather vital part of the story. Thanks again! And Tina, thanks for the inspiration you gave me for this chapter.**

**Tony's age... I'm going by his being thirty-two in Season 1, according to Kate. This is three years later.**

Hap Says Hello

Chapter 7

Gibbs physically flinched as he heard his own dismissive words tossed back at him; in the mouth of someone he couldn't recall ever having use that tone on him they sounded cruel. He felt a sudden, unaccustomed wash of shame; that was how it must have felt to DiNozzo when he read them... he knew he shouldn't have sent that card.

Tony saw it had struck home. If he hadn't been so angry he might have been tempted to apologise, but Gibbs was going to understand if it killed him. Him? Which him did he mean? He wasn't even sure... he felt pretty bad, but how much of it was physical and how much was the emotional bludgeoning he'd put himself through every time another missive arrived... he really couldn't be arsed to figure it right now. He went back to the attack; since he'd started he might as well go on.

"Tell me again? No? _You_ haven't been watching your own six. I told you. I've always had your back and I always will... and look what happens when I can't? You're on the floor with a busted knee, and I'm – " he glanced at the blood squeezing between his fingers in sudden realisation – "ah, hell, would you believe the _same_ damn shoulder? This is getting a bit tired..." Gibbs tried to say something but didn't get the chance. "You'd have died twice tonight – or are you too damn stubborn to admit it?" He tapped his earpiece. "Alex could see..."

Without warning he keeled over onto his side, and the Marine managed to move fast enough to catch him before his injured shoulder could hit the ground, but it didn't shut him up. "Y'dog saved you once before I got here," he said thickly, from somewhere in the region of Gibbs' kneecaps. He tried raise his head and follow the action as Tim, Alex, Fornell and some other black-clad, efficient looking figures ran up; Gibbs helped him. The men on the ground who were beginning to stir were hauled up unceremoniously; the one who was still down was cuffed and left for later. A limp looking fourth was hauled out of the creek.

Kanchelskis hadn't moved; he was quite sure that the red-eyed hell hound would go for his throat if he did. He was probably right. Fornell called quietly, "Gibbs, call him off."

"Hap... c'm 'ere, feller."

The dog backed off slowly, transforming gradually from avenging, hackles-bristling demon back to milk-chocolate mutt, and Fornell moved in to inspect the crime-boss's shredded sleeve and the wrist underneath. "Cuff his good arm to one of you," he told two of his team. "Get him some treatment before you ship him off." The male member of the pair did so; the woman didn't take her gun off Kanchelskis as he was led away. Tobias turned back again, to see Gibbs on the ground, supporting DiNozzo's head and shoulders against him, Domingues still holding her gun and with the infra-red camera still slung round her neck, and looking round as if she were by no means sure that the action was really over. McGee knelt on one side of his Boss, and the dog on the other.

"Hi, Hap... pleased to meet you... heard all about you..." DiNozzo's voice was lazy. Gibbs was silent, overwhelmed by memories. The dog had relaxed a bit, but still sat guard in case anything else happened. He was quiet, and calm, and never moved from Gibbs' side.

"I'm sorry, Tony," Tim said quietly. "Wish we could have got here sooner."

"Tim... did you stop that boat?"

"Oh yes. Found Liebecke holding the whole crew and two visiting ladies hostage. No casualties."

"That's OK then..."

Gibbs thought to himself, _First names...no more rule six... been some changes... _ he sighed to himself, as Shannon-angel whispered, _So? That's not a bad thing..._

Fornell reached into one of the copious pockets of his combat gear; (Gibbs thought inconsequentially that both he and McGee looked hard and competent in the black clothes,) he brought out some wound dressings and passed them down to his old friend. "That's all I've got," he said from somewhere wa-a-a-y up in the air above Tony, and the injured man smiled. "We came armed with a warrant," he added wolfishly, "IT and all technology included. We'll go over that boat with flea combs..." He looked at the other two agents. "I should go back to that. Catch some fleas."

The SFA hesitated. "You go too, Tim," Alex said softly. "I'll stay and keep a lookout until you send the medics to us. I'll be fine with Hap."

Tim lingered for a moment by the two men on the ground and nodded. "Good to see you again, Gibbs," he said calmly. He put a hand on Tony's good shoulder. "The medics are local guys," he told him quietly. "We can't let them in until we're sure the area's clear. I'll be back with a doctor quick as I can." He got up and strode off, and they were alone but for Alex, beginning to quietly patrol a perimeter of her own making in the semi-darkness, scanning through the camera's lens, and Hap keeping his vigil. The only sounds were the movement of the water and the soft rumbling of the motor yacht's idling Volvos across the inlet.

Gibbs remembered the last time he'd seen DiNozzo; he felt at a loss now just as he had that night at his house, but for such different reasons. The memories were piling in, tearing at his chest and hammering around in his head. Where to even start? The man lying in his lap had gone quiet; although he wasn't unconscious as the green eyes were still regarding him vaguely. In a daze, Gibbs unpacked the dressings, and carefully uncovered the wound. It still bled more than he liked to see, and he slipped his hand inside the back of Tony's collar to see if the blade had gone right through.

He was thankful that he couldn't feel an exit wound, and he piled the dressings onto the bleeding cut and pressed down. Tony jerked involuntarily under his hand, and suppressed a grunt of pain. Gibbs spoke without thinking. "Easy, now... Sorry, son."

_Son. _Tony's sharp intake of breath was loud enough to make Alex pause in her patrolling, even though she was trying to stay out of earshot. She had a feeling that was the best thing to do, but she still heard what her Boss said, quiet as it was.

"What are you _doing_, Gibbs? I told you, don't fuck with my head." The blazing anger seemed to have spent itself, the voice was low, and weary, and cynical, and so sad the Marine couldn't reply for a moment.

"I... I'm not, Tony," he said finally. "Feel like I'm fucking with my own. Been like that a while."

Tony jerked his head round abruptly, to try and look at him more closely "What?"

"Keep still... you're still bleeding..."

"Gibbs, we _so_ cannot have this conversation with me lying in your lap!"

"We... maybe we shouldn't have it at all... yet. Don't know what to say. Keep getting it wrong."

Tony began to push himself up on his good arm, and Gibbs had a flashback to that night again, DiNozzo struggling up out of his car one-handed. He gave up and helped him. The younger man looked at him closely. "You've remembered."

"Some. Lots. Tony..."

DiNozzo looked at him even more assessingly. "You OK?"

Gibbs smothered a rather wild burst of laughter, and took a deep breath, but he never got to say what he'd been going to, because they heard Tim McGee's voice in the distance, and running feet coming closer. In a moment the medics would take over, and there'd be no chance to talk. He _had_ to say one thing. "Tony... whatever else... you should know... I'm sorry. I screwed up. I'm _sorry._"

He watched DiNozzo's eyes widen in... what? Amazement, fury, joy, hope, doubt – oh, he caught that one all right, in the moment before paramedic green obscured all sight of him.

NCISNCISNCIS

Like Tim McGee, Lars Emmerich had a good degree from MIT. Unlike Tim McGee, he didn't have much of a spine. He stood watching as men and women in black swarmed his lovely, shiny steel and glass intelligence centre and prepared to take it carefully apart, and felt his world crumbling. McGee stood holding three laptops in a stack, a small trickle of blood drying on his temple from where someone who did have a spine had tried to take him on earlier, regarding the wilting man bleakly.

"I will get into all this, you know," he said cheerfully. "You can make my job easy, which would be best, because we want to find out if there's anything we can hold Liebecke on before we deport him. Or, you can give me the challenge. I personally would prefer that... but my Boss just got stabbed and he'll be a bit irritable. I'd best take the easy option. So should you if you know what's good for you."

Emmerich shrugged, ran his hand through sparse hair, and picked up a jotter from nearby. He wrote three passwords on it and passed it over. "One of those will get you into anything," he said resignedly. If you need anything more I'll tell you."

Tim beamed. "_Thank _you," he said.

Fornell came over and peered at it as he turned away from the man. "What you got there, McGee?"

"_Fleas_, Fornell."

"Ah..."

NCISNCISNCIS

It was dark, as he opened one lazy eye, except for the irritation people described as 'ambient light' – he'd call it wasted electricity... the smell and the high temperature said hospital... and wait a minute, how was he waking up in a bed? He didn't remember passing out! Oh yes... his knee. They'd x-rayed it, prodded it, said 'soft tissue damage', strapped it, and told him to stay off it, and he should stay the night. He worried about Hap, and trusted someone was taking care of him. He'd been ready to ignore them and go – until Fornell had come and told him DiNutso was trying to do the same thing.

"_What are you saying, Tobias? If I stay, he will?"_

"_Way I understand it, it was always the other way round."_

Gibbs had thought for a moment, and realised that was the truth of it. Tobias had then gone on to tell him about the scene in the Hoover Building, and how Twentyman's head was still rattling from the ferocity of DiNutso's rage. Gibbs felt proud. And guilty.

He'd stayed, and as far as he knew, so had DiNozzo. Make that definite... in the dim half-light the soft pastel greens of the walls and curtains served to make both himself and the man who sat in the chair in the corner look distinctly unhealthy. DiNozzo wore sweats, sneakers and a sling on his left arm, and there was a blanket that seemed to have fallen from his knees. Someone had also given him a couple of pillows, and he'd managed to make himself comfortable enough to sleep. He looked way younger than his thirty-five years, and peaceful and well behaved in a way Gibbs had _never_ seen him look when he was awake.

_Good, _Gibbs thought, _he needs it. _And understanding why plunged him back into the guilt and agitation of mind that had first gripped him as he'd seen the younger man draw a knife from his own shoulder and stand with it between him and the attacker. Two months... eight weeks of pottering around the Caribbean, to the stage where he'd been too relaxed to know he was being snuck up on, in _spite_ of Hap's unease...had brought only the haziest recollections; but seeing Tony go down had ripped the seams of the curtain shutting out his memories in exactly the way Ducky and Abe said he shouldn't remember; that he knew was the _only_ way. _Did I think all that in one breath? _It had always been his way to face things head on; it made for a good leader, and sometimes a lousy friend.

He hauled himself up to a sitting position, opened his mouth, and then closed it again. Five in the morning... Surely DiNozzo had earned the rest. Or was it just that he was panic-stricken at the thought of that promised conversation? Was he simply trying to delay the inevitable, when Tony would tell him he'd had enough, and leave for good?

But he was here, wasn't he, and of all the things he'd least expected it was to find the young man keeping vigil over him the way he'd done over _him _in the past.

_It had always been his way to face things head on; _you said it Jethro, time to do it. But he still let the Italian sleep on.

After an unmeasured time spent filling his head with memories of his team, and contrasting those times with how things had been since his return, he found his mouth was dry as a bone, with a most bitter taste on his tongue. He tried to reach for the water jug and glass on the night-stand, and the movement of his leg made him grunt with pain. That and the rattle of the glass was enough to make Tony's eyes fly open.

"You OK, Gibbs?" He jumped up, tottered and steadied himself, then hurried over to push the jug within Gibbs' reach. "Think you'd better pour it yourself though..." He sat down on the end of the bed.

"This is different," Gibbs said awkwardly.

Tony's answering smile was light, and, remembering being scalded by his earlier anger, Gibbs found he really couldn't tell if it was the real deal, or if he was looking at his former SFA's mask. The younger man met his eyes without hesitation. "Just the boot on the other foot, Gibbs – you did it for me more than once. D'you remember?"

"I guess I remember everything, Tony. Or if I don't, it can't be important, and I'll never miss it. Look... I... er, I do know... when we were a team..." Tony waited quietly. "Before the explosion... dammit... who I was then... that guy had got himself together... found a way to carry on. People to help him... if I'd remembered, if I'd been that guy... I'd _never_ have treated you the way I've done since I came back." He waited for at the very least, a snort of derision.

Tony's answer was as light as his smile had been, and now Gibbs knew it was genuine "I know that, Gibbs. Wouldn't be here otherwise."

Gibbs stared. "Just like that?"

"Sure just like that. Why not?"

"The way I... you were mad as hell at me just now..."

Tony glanced at his watch. "Eight hours ago. McGee and Alex are on the boat, by the way, looking after Hap for you. He's OK." If he thought that wasn't all McGee and Alex were doing, he wasn't saying.

Gibbs nodded his relief at that. "Whatever... you threw the stupidest thing I ever said to you – wipe that grin off of your face – you threw it back at me, and I deserved it –"

Tony shook his head. "I thought so then... but that was the Me-hee-co Gibbs. _You're _back now."

"Dammit, Tony, I'm trying to apologise here for weeks of shit... ya gotta let me..."

Tony looked away uncomfortably. "Don't wanna put you through it."

"I put you through it..."

"We're quits without you having to beat yourself up."

Gibbs looked down at his hands. "You weren't kidding when you said you were watching my six. You're still doing it."

Still, Tony's smile was peaceful. "Well, I guess you've got mine again now."

Gibbs thought for a while. "Let me say something, and don't interrupt?"

Tony pulled a face. "OK."

Gibbs took a deep breath. "In the Corps I had my buddies. We never stopped watching each other's sixes. Then I had Mike. He got me through... he had my six, no doubt of that. Then I met this cop in Baltimore... got to be like... family to me. Never had to doubt for a moment that he had my six. Never knew a kid like him before. Now this kid... when he was real ill, never saw anything of his folks, nobody there for him then, kinda gets me wondering what his life was like when he was young. He goes from one police department to another, nobody knows how to handle him and he can't trust anyone to look out for him. When I meet him, he's got a bent partner, and a stupid fiancee who can't see the quality she proceeds to dump."

"Gibbs..."

"Ya said ya wouldn't interrupt."

"Yeah. Sorry."

"That stupid remark... been watching my own six for years... I don't know what I'm talking about. I've never been without somebody watching my six, and saying that was denying my brothers, Mike and _you_. I've always had it, you never had until you joined me... and then I took it away. Be a long time before I forgive myself for that, Tony."

The younger man drew in a long breath. He said unsteadily, "Better start working on it now, then, Gibbs." He reached across with his right hand to grasp Gibbs' left, which was closest, and gripped it intensely for a long moment, and found the grip returned. When he finally released it, he went on tentatively, "Family...?"

"Tried to deny it for long enough. My girls were my family. I wouldn't listen to the voice that said I could have another one. Not even when it was Shannon's voice... I felt mad at you for being there when they weren't... not your fault."

Floored by the total honesty, Tony had to respond. "Not your fault that I pushed my surrogate father issues at you."

"Was happy enough with it... until I didn't remember." He paused, and said clearly enough that there'd be no misunderstanding, "I remember now, son."

The younger man sat absolutely still and silent for a long time, then looked up and said, almost shyly, "So... you gonna be OK now? You've been through it..."

"Well, yeah. I can _talk_ to you." He smiled a little. "When I do talk, that is."

"Gonna have to make time, then. Don't know when..."

Gibbs smile grew a little more."Been thinking about that. Might be risky, seeing we were at each other's throats a few hours ago..."

"What might?"

Gibbs gestured at his injured knee. "Gonna be difficult for a one-legged man to get his boat home alone."

Tony's voice rose to a squeak. "And you want a one-_armed_ man to help you?"

NCISNCISNCIS

What they talked about on that four day, hilarious, barely competent journey home, only Hap would ever know, but waiting on the jetty as Stephanie's sails were reefed and she came gliding in, Abe could see that it was quite a different Gibbs coming home than the one who'd sailed away from that spot. The reception committee was the sort of thing that would have made Gibbs cringe, but he took Abby, Ducky, McGee, Alex and her beautiful little girl in his stride. And Ziva... how she'd got away from her team for long enough to get there nobody asked – Ziva had her ways.

There were hugs and greetings all round; Gibbs hugged Abby, as Jasmine squealed and hugged Tony as if he'd been away for months. The Marine grasped Abe's hand in heartfelt thanks, and they didn't need words. Ducky started to make a speech, then laughed and stopped himself. After a while, a plaintive whimper from by Gibbs' knees made them all look down, to where the milk-chocolate mutt had given up waiting to be called, and leapt up onto the jetty.

"Oh yeah," Gibbs said. "This is Hap. Say hello, Hap."

THE END

**AN: That's it for the S&F universe... it's been fun. The group write went better than I could have possibly imagined, and I repeat my heartfelt thanks to all who joined in. The quality of what you contributed to the story is there for all to see.**

**So, to finish with... here's the only PC, by ytteb, that I couldn't use, and you'll see why... but the lady's got such a wicked sense of humour I couldn't leave it out. I should explain she sent it to me right at the beginning, before she got to like Hap...**

Postcard by ytteb

Picture: Sunset at sea

_Abs,_

_Rule 53: Don't chew ropes. Hap broke rule 53. Squashed by mast. Buried him at sea... it was sunset, said a few words. You'd have liked it. Saved the collar for you. Semper Fi. Gibbs _

Really THE END


End file.
